


Kinetics

by kittenbot



Series: Kinetics [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Sex, BDSM, DCBB 2106, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Dom Castiel, Kidnapping, Kinbaku, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Photographer Castiel, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shibari, Sub Dean, Torture, sculptor Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 106,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8541010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenbot/pseuds/kittenbot
Summary: Dean Winchester can count on one hand the number of good things that have happened to him in his life. With fingers leftover. When Sculpture Magazine wanted to do a piece on him as the new up-and-comer in metal sculpture, he was guarded. But when he met Castiel, who was sent to document his work, he decided to take a chance on the growing connection between them. They learn that they are both in the BDSM lifestyle and agree to explore that together. Dean has a traumatic past, both in childhood and with bad Doms. They have to negotiate their relationship carefully.Set in the modern world without the supernatural, Dean is a sculptor and Castiel is a photographer. Castiel is also a Dom and Bakushi—an expert that ties people up in the traditional Japanese way; his specialty is suspension ties. Dean is a sub who was never taught the meaning of Safe, Sane, and Consensual. Cas wants to show Dean how wonderful submission can be and he’s absolutely dying to tie Dean up and suspend him. Dean wants to let him. If only he wasn’t being targeted by a psychopath.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic represents a lot of firsts for me. Despite having posted two one-shots already, this really is my first fic, my first long fic, and my first DCBB. I started it 15 months ago and it has been a labor of love, hate, trepidation, self-esteem issues, and long periods of block. The block was hard to handle because I got out about the first 60k words in less than a week. The rest was like pulling teeth, but I couldn't have done it without [@whataboutthefish](http://whataboutthefish.tumblr.com/), [@shipperslist](http://shipperslist.tumblr.com/), and [@paperannxo](http://paperannxo.tumblr.com/) as awesome cheerleaders and inspiration. Thank you for your encouragement and kind words, and Fish for the awesome GIFs just when I needed them. Also, there are some chunks of a few chapters that I would not have been able to complete without Fish's help. So give her some love on her Tumblr and go read her DCBB over [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8493694)
> 
> Thank you to [@shipperslist](http://shipperslist.tumblr.com/) for the awesome beta. This definitely would not be as clean as it is if you hadn't stepped up for me. 
> 
> And the awesome awesome art is by [@androbeaurepaire](http://androbeaurepaire.tumblr.com/). Check them out!  
> Master Art Post
> 
> As a side note, don't ever sign up for a DCBB then decide to remodel and sell your house and buy another. It was the most traumatic experience/move of my life, and my posting date ended up ON moving day. Hense posting a week late due to lack of internet. Thank you to the mods for your patience.
> 
> Disclaimer: First and foremost, I do not own these characters, but this is my work. Please don't post it anywhere else without permission, as that is theft. Please pay attention to the tags. There is angst, but it has a happy ending. Just so you know. Lastly, this work is not meant to be a how-to on BDSM. My aim is to portray the kink community in a positive light as they are some of the most awesome people I've ever met. If I got anything wrong please let me know. Nicely.

[](http://imgur.com/pYkN38W)

“Mr. Crowley, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Bela’s voice oozed charm and professionalism, despite her dislike of the man.

 _“Oh come now, darling. You don’t have to use the fake charm on me. I know better,”_ Crowley chuckled, sending ice through Bela’s veins, even through the phone line.

“Fine. What do you want?” she said, with a touch of disdain. She was careful to keep a leash on her personal feelings. There was a difference between toning down the fake charm and outright disrespect. And she had to, begrudgingly, respect the man. He may be a right prick, but he knew his business, and he was ruthless. Not to mention he owned her for the next four years. “Do you have a new talent you need me to represent?” she asked, hoping it was her legitimate business the Scot needed, and not her more questionable talents. Nothing good ever came of it when Crowley needed those services.

 _“No, my dear, I am in need of your procurement skills, to an extent. I don’t need you to get me something, but I need you to make something happen for me. I will compensate you handsomely, of course.”_ The smarm was overwhelming, which didn’t bode well.

“Details, please.” She wanted to get this over with. Just talking with him reduced her normally rock solid confidence, making her feel like a teenager forced into some prank by the high school bully. Honestly, that was never far from the mark.

_“Your hot new talent, Dean Winchester, the sculptor. I need him to get national exposure, preferably positive. I don’t need him in the gossip rags. And I don’t care how you do it, but it has to happen by the end of next month, ideally sooner.”_

“What’s the big deal with this guy? I mean, I know why he’s special in the art world, but why are you interested in him?” She was mildly concerned. If something happened to one of her clients because of her actions, that would be very bad for business.

 _“That is none of your concern, Ms. Talbot,”_ he rebuked _. “Rest assured, nothing unseemly will get back to you. As far as anyone is concerned, you will be promoting one of your client’s careers. You’ll be doing your job. You will just be doing it more aggressively in this case. I’m not asking you to do anything illegal, darling.”_

“I don’t know. On the surface it sounds like it’s not a big deal. But if something happens to him—“ Not that she really cared about the artist as a person. She just needed to protect her reputation.

 _“Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental on me now,”_ he said, incredulous.

“Oh please, you know me better than that," she said with a touch of sarcasm. "It’s just bad for business. I’m sure you can appreciate that.” She pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off a headache that was looming on the horizon.

_“Sweetheart, I helped you build that business. Do you really think I’d ask you to do something that would jeopardize it? You might as well stop fighting this. I’m not actually asking you to do it. I’m telling you to do it. I own you, Ms. Talbot. You must remember the contract that you signed six years ago, yeah? You still owe me four years of services, no questions asked. So stop asking questions and do as you’re told, like a good little girl.”_

Bela sighed at the scolding. She _did_ remember the contract. She was haunted by it daily, reminded every time she stepped through the doors to her offices. Before she met Fergus McCloud, who preferred to be called Crowley, she made her money through procuring high-value objects for high-paying, high-profile clientele. Such transactions were usually not strictly within the law, and she’d had a run of bad transactions that put her on Interpol’s watch list.

Crowley, being her biggest client, had offered her a deal. He would set her up in a legitimate profession with a new, completely backstopped ID, and the right contacts to start out with a bang. In return, she continued her previous line of work for him, whenever he asked. He still paid her handsomely, of course, services rendered and all that. But she was not allowed to turn down any of his requests. There was a clause in the contract about her right to refuse, or lack of. If she refused anything he asked of her, he would destroy her and her business, and make sure Interpol knew exactly where to find her.

Bela recognized that she sold her soul to the devil, so to speak, but it wasn’t  like she had much of one anyway. But his orders had never come so close to her legit business ventures before, and it made her more than nervous.

“Very well. It's not going to be easy, you know. Winchester hates being in the spotlight. I seem to remember you saying something about being handsomely compensated? Just how handsomely?” If she couldn’t get out of it, she may as well profit from it.

 _“Remember the Orb of Thesulah? That handsome enough for you?”_ Crowley practically cooed at her.

 _That_ made Bela perk up. The Orb of Thesulah had been a difficult and, therefore, rewarding acquisition. Although, Bela didn’t really know what Crowley would need a soul vault for, except for a very expensive paperweight. “That will be acceptable. Will there be anything else, Mr. Crowley? As much as I enjoy our little chats, I do have work to do.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but she was anxious to get the man off the phone. She dealt in some pretty shady circles, but dealing with Crowley always made her feel the need to shower.

 _“No, my dear, that will be all. Keep me informed. Oh, if he needs a little prodding, tell him you have pictures of him with a man named Alastair. That should do the trick. Let me knew if you need the photos, I'll send them over.”_ The call terminated before she could respond.

Completing the task should not be that difficult. She had already been working on _Sculpture Magazine_ to do a piece on Dean Winchester, so all she really had to do is make sure that the article got more exposure. There was just the little nagging thought that she was part of something bigger, something not good. She shook it off.

Whatever Dean Winchester had done to get on Crowley’s radar, well, that was his problem.


	2. Chapter 1 Oh Brother, Where Art Thou

Castiel had always had an appreciation for the human form. Soft and hard at the same time, curves and edges. Even at rest, the human body is always in motion. Breaths coming in and out, heart pumping in a regular, unconscious beat. God’s greatest invention; a living, breathing machine that seems to have no limits. Castiel particularly enjoyed pushing those limits.

Originally, he’d thought to put this appreciation to use by becoming a doctor. After all, great things were expected of all the Novak children.  So he’d gone to Northwestern University for pre-med. Without telling his parents, he also double majored in Art Theory and Practice. He’d found that his childhood hobby of photography could be applied to his appreciation of the human form as well. During the summer between his junior and senior years, he took a trip to Japan; he needed to get away and had always wanted to travel. His parents were more than willing to foot the bill, as study abroad always looked good on med school applications. While in Japan, Castiel met Balthazar, who opened his eyes on many levels. 

He smiled at the memories as the plane started its descent into Kansas City. The flight from Chicago was short, and he let his mind wander to the job at hand. Castiel was a freelance photographer, documenting other people’s art for various art mags and newspapers. He also had his own art, his passion. The photo essays of other people’s work were what pay the bills. His art was what fueled his passion.

Castiel’s latest assignment was an intriguing one. The International Sculpture Center had commissioned him to do a pictorial of an up-and-comer from Kansas for their magazine, Sculpture. Sculpture was known for highlighting innovative techniques and materials, and Dean Winchester was certainly innovative. As Castiel read through the dossier the editor sent to him, he noticed that most of the materials that this young talent used were found objects. More specifically, found in an auto wrecking yard. It wasn’t just the materials themselves that made his work special; it’s what he did with them. All of Winchester’s pieces moved. Some had perpetual motion machines in them, the kind that keep going on their own once they’ve been pushed just so. Some had machines in them that you turned on and off, or wound up like an old pocket watch. Some just gave the illusion of movement, by nature of shape and placement of the materials.  Because of the nature of the work, Castiel was unusually excited for this shoot.

Normally, Castiel loved photography for the art he could create. His freelance assignments were generally boring. This time, however, he felt that he was going to love his photography for the art he could capture. Only time would tell. Artists of any sort could be notoriously difficult, as his sister, Anna, was wont to point out at every family dinner, with very definite opinions about their creations. Castiel had a difficult time navigating normal human interactions as it was; add on top of that two very strong artistic personalities and he was just as likely to have Mount Vesuvius on his darkroom floor as he was an award-winning shot. He hoped that Winchester was not one of the volatile types.

Castiel put the file away in his messenger bag that lay between his feet and turned off his iPod. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, contemplating the assignment as the plane landed.

After grabbing his suitcase and the hard case with all his gear for the shoot from baggage claim, he made his way over to the car rental counter. He had reserved a sensible compact hybrid for the drive to Lawrence. According to his information, Lawrence was almost an hour northeast of Kansas City. He could have reserved a hotel room in the city, but felt it would help him get into the assignment better if he stayed in the smaller town. He didn’t have to worry about the expense, since it was a business trip, but he wasn’t one to indulge just for the sake of decadence. Usually, he was content with a shower and a bed with clean linens, and he was pleasantly surprised with the architecture and décor of The Oread. It stimulated his artistic tendencies. 

Castiel was due to meet the new artist at ten o’clock the next morning. He looked at the bedside clock and found it was barely seven in the evening. After stowing his bags and using the restroom, he headed downstairs to get a bite to eat. While he waited for his meal, he let his mind wander to whatever it wanted. Most of the time he found himself thinking about Balthazar. Baz had a key role in the development of Castiel’s photography, such that whenever he came across an interesting subject he would wonder how his old mentor would have approached the shoot. 

Baz was one of those relationships that was only meant to last for a finite period, but would have an everlasting impact on his life. At twenty years old and spending a summer abroad, the older man quickly became a friend and mentor. While  in Tokyo, Castiel  took several classes at Japanorama, a private company that taught all aspects of photography, from how cameras work to composition and lighting, mostly to foreigners spending a while abroad. Castiel had always been intrigued with photography. It was a way to document his passion for the human form and to create something new for himself. He was always taking photos as a child, starting with Polaroids of his family with the camera that his father gave him for his ninth birthday. To this day, Chuck still viewed that gift as more of a gag gift, but Castiel saw it as the first step on his trip down the rabbit hole. He would forever see the world through the lens of a camera.

Castiel met Balthazar during one of his photography classes. Balthazar was the teacher of his composition class. They toured all over Tokyo, getting amazing shots of people, landscapes, and architecture. Baz had a really great eye for what would make a good photo, and had a particular affinity for traditional ceremonies. After that particular workshop had ended, they stayed in touch. Pretty soon, they were dating. Castiel learned that, not only was Baz a Dom, but a bakushi as well. 

Castiel had never heard of Kinbaku before, the erotic art of rope bondage, but he quickly became fascinated by it Balthazar became Castiel’s Dom and he taught him everything he needed to know to be a proper submissive. Castiel enjoyed giving up the control to someone else. Every part of his life was regimented at that point, between studying and meeting family expectations. It was nice to let someone else make the decisions that had nothing to do with his future or his family.

After a certain level of trust had been achieved, Baz started tying Castiel up. During their play sessions he would tie Castiel to the bed, sure. But Kinbaku was so much more than that. There were different kinds of ropes, many different ways to be tied up, and such an art to it that it made Castiel want to weep with the beauty of it. Being a bakushi, a rope master, Baz was far more creative than your average Dom. After witnessing a particularly powerful Kinbaku demonstration at a rope dojo in Tokyo, Castiel asked Baz to suspend him. He wanted to be tied up, completely immobilized, but suspended in the air. After lengthy discussion, Baz consented. They made sure to do it at the dojo for safety, because all the equipment was tested and verified.

Castiel had never felt so free in his life. It was ironic that being tied up, bound in endless yards of soft hemp rope and suspended from the ceiling, was the most liberating experience of his life. It felt like he was not only giving up control of his body to Baz, but giving up control of his life to the universe. He trusted that Baz would take care of him, so he trusted that the universe would, too.

After that, Castiel was hooked. Baz taught him how to tie and he practiced on the available models at the dojo, under his Dom’s supervision. Seeing someone else tied up, with his ropes, gave Castiel a feeling he wasn’t aware he wanted. The power over another person’s body, to manipulate it, to create art with it, was downright intoxicating. He started bringing his camera to the sessions and, with the model’s permission, documented the process and the finished product. He was intrigued at how this art form meshed with the other passions of his life. By photographing Kinbaku and a bakushi at work, he was documenting another way in which the body could be completely immobile, but still be moving at the same time. With suspension, the model was often like a pendant on a necklace, easily swaying back and forth like a pendulum, or even spinning in circles. Pure art in motion.

This was the basis of Castiel’s current project themes. Ever since he’d returned to the United States, and dropped medicine as a career choice, Castiel had been photographing erotic situations, mostly of the rope variety. Whether he’d tied the model himself or documented another master at work, his passion was the restraint of the powerful thing that was the human body and his mission was to let the whole world see it, too. Castiel continued to reminisce while he ate.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

After finishing his dinner and lingering longer than was necessary, having become lost in his thoughts, Castiel made his way back up to his room. It was just after 9 p.m., so he thought he’d call his brother to check in.

_ “Hey, little bro, how was the flight?” _ Gabriel’s enthusiasm was usually infective, but Castiel was tired.

“It was fine, Gabriel, just like every other flight, but shorter,” he said, plopping down on the bed.

_ “So, what’s Hicksville like?” _ he asked flippantly, the tell-tale sound of a lollipop coming through the line. 

“It’s Lawrence,” Castiel snorted, “and I haven’t seen much of it. By the time I got here from Kansas City it was starting to get dark. I just finished dinner in the hotel restaurant.” He figured he might as well get ready for bed, so he started his nighttime routine as he talked with his brother.

_ “What kind of digs did the magazine set you up in? Can’t be too many five-stars in the middle of corn country.” _ Gabriel was his usual jovial self this evening, but Castiel struggled for patience as he just wanted to get to bed. 

“I’m at The Oread. It’s not a five-star, but it’s much better than a Best Western. The architecture is beautiful,” he said, distracted by digging through his bag for his sleep pants.

_ “That’s great, Cassie. So, have you met him yet?” _ Gabriel asked in a sing-song voice.

“No, Gabriel, I won’t meet him until tomorrow morning. Why are you so excited for me to meet this artist?” he asked, suspicious of his brother’s motivations.

_ “As your agent, I keep tabs on all the goings on in the art world. This guy is supposed to be something real special. Has an eye for machines and how to turn them into functional art. The guy is twenty-six and already has a piece outside Wonderscope, that children’s museum in KC. So, yeah, I’m excited to see what kind of images you can get. Besides, I heard a rumor that this guy is also looking for new representation. If I can get him on as a client that would really boost my credibility in the art world.” _

“Gabriel, the only thing wrong with your credibility is your mouth. You never stop running it. Or sleeping with the talent. It would certainly help if you stopped doing that,” he said dryly. “And why do I get the feeling that you’re not just looking for another client?” he finished, suspicious of his brother’s motivations.

_ “You’re just jealous ‘cause I get more tail than you. If you peeked out from behind the camera once in awhile, you’d get some, too. You’re always looking through your lens…you miss the world passing you by. One of these days you’re going to wake up eighty and alone.” _

Castiel sighed; this was an old argument, made stale by its blatant honesty. He knew that the last, and truthfully, only, meaningful relationship he had was nine years ago. Baz was the best six months of his life.  How could he ever hope to top that? He’d thought, on more than one occasion, to go back to Japan and look for Baz, to reconnect. But things had ended so well that he didn’t want to ruin that memory with the possibility of what he would find if he went back. He kept reminding himself, you can never go back. He and Baz knew that their time was limited. They’d made the most of it because of that. But that’s all it was. Half a year of amazing sex, mind-altering exploration of the human body and his own sexuality. By the time he’d left Tokyo, Castiel was firm in the knowledge that he preferred to dominate, rather than submit. He preferred to tie, instead of being tied up. He’d learned a lot with Balthazar, about the world and about himself. He didn’t want to taint that by trying to go back.

“Gabriel, if I’m meant to be with someone, we will find each other. I’m only twenty-nine. I know Mom and Dad found each other very young, but you haven’t found anyone you’d like to spend your life with yet, either. So please stop,” he pleaded. “You sound like Mom.”

_ “Yeah, yeah, I know,”  _ Gabriel grumbled, _ “The universe will provide, and all that. You know Mom clutches her rosary every time you start talking about the universe, right?” _

“Yes, I know. But I can’t help it if I don’t share the same religious convictions as our parents. I’ve experienced life differently. I’ve been places and seen things that Mom’s Midwest sensibilities couldn’t begin to know how to process. Besides the fact that they think that being a photographer is a waste. So forgive me if I don’t subscribe to their way of thinking,” Castiel finished, irritated at the same arguments over and over. 

_ “I know, little bro, I know. Hell, they think I’m enabling you by being your agent,” _ his brother laughed.

“At least they view your profession as somewhat respectable,” he replied bitterly. “They think I’m just a flakey starving artist.  They keep wondering how I’m going to support a wife and kids with my income.” 

Gabriel snorted.  _ “They still haven’t accepted the fact that there’s never going to be a Missus Castiel Novak, have they? The pictures of you and Baz didn’t sink in?” _

“They chalked it up to a phase,” he sighed. “They refuse to believe it since it’s been nine years since I’ve had a meaningful relationship. They’re waiting for just the right girl to come along and capture my heart.” He can’t help but keep the bitterness from his tone. “They also conveniently forget that my income allows me to keep a very nice loft and studio in Chicago. I’m certainly not a starving artist, by any means. Maybe that’s why they never visit, to keep that illusion in their heads,” he finished, massaging his temples.

Gabriel sighed.  _ “Yeah, I know. It sucks that they don’t visit more often, given that we’re all in the same city. I guess they’re just old fashioned; they think the children should always visit the parents, not the other way around. But look, don’t think about that. You’ve got a meeting with an awesome new artist tomorrow and you’re going to get some great new shots. Who knows, you might even find inspiration for your next exhibition.” _

Castiel rubbed one hand down his face. “Yes, new inspiration would be nice. Look, Gabriel, it’s getting late and I want to get an early start. I’ll check in with you later, okay? Once I know if this artist is the real deal or not. Okay?”

_ “Yeah, sure thing little brother. At the very least, please try to get laid, okay? You’ve been too tense lately. That’s not good for the creative process.” _

Castiel laughed out loud. “What would you know about the creative process?!”

_ “I dated a painter once.” _ Gabriel had mock hurt in his voice, as if dating the painter for one week made him an expert.

“Whatever you say, Gabriel. I’ll talk to you later.” With that, Castiel hung up and went about his bedtime routine.


	3. Chapter 2 Family Ties

Dean was ass over tea kettle and elbow deep in the engine of a ’69 Shelby Mustang GT350 when his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He wiped his hands on his shop rag and pulled his phone out, smiling when he saw the caller ID.

“Hiya, Sammy! What’s up?”

_ “Hey Dean, did I catch you at a good time? You’re not at work, are you?” _ Sam asked, hesitantly. 

“Well, yeah, I’m at work. I’m working on the engine of a sweet ’69 Shelby.” Dean grinned. It was a sweet ride after all. “But I can take a break. What’s goin’ on? Are you okay? Is Jess okay?” Dean asked, concerned. 

_ “Yeah. No. I mean, not really. We’re graduating in a month and Jess has decided to go back home to Washington. She’s going to get her Master’s degree up there. Apparently, her mom isn’t doing so well,” _ Sam revealed, his voice tight.

“Oh, dude, I’m sorry. Are you going to try the long distance thing? I know you’re totally head over heels for her,” Dean prodded. 

_ “I was willing to try, but she shot me down on that,”  _ he sighed. “ _ She’s been distant for a while now. I think she met someone on her last visit home, over spring break. She won’t confirm it, but she’s been on the phone a ton lately,” Sam said, subdued. _

“What’re ya gonna do?” Dean sat down in the break room with his lunch, though he was too focused on his little brother to actually eat. Something was prickling at Dean’s protective instincts.

_ “I was thinking I’d come home for the summer,” _ he replied, hopeful.  _  “I’m graduating next month, and law school doesn’t start until September. I’ll need to find a new apartment once school starts, one without Jess. Plus, I know I won’t be able to come home very much in the next three years. I’ve heard law school is a bitch on your social life. Do you think I could crash with you for the summer? I’m sure Ellen would appreciate some help at the Roadhouse. I may not be able to tend bar, but I can do all the books and admin stuff. You know how she hates paperwork,” _ Sam finished in a rush.

Dean relaxed a little. If Sammy was planning ahead for the summer and the next three years, then he’d be fine. Dean would worry more if he was completely apathetic about everything. As it was, his little brother sounded pretty dejected. 

“Like I’d ever refuse you, Sammy. You’re my brother; of course you can crash with me for the summer. And I’m sure Ellen would appreciate the help. If she doesn’t need the help we’ll find something else for you to do. Don’t worry, I got you covered, little brother,” Dean encouraged. His mind whirled with all the things they could do as distractions while Sam was home.

_ “You sure I won’t be cramping your style? Maybe interrupting an overnight guest now and then?” _ Sam always tried for subtlety. And mostly fell flat on his face.

“No, there’s no one right now. Just the occasional warm body to scratch the itch, but no one special. Not since Lisa,” he admitted.

_ “Dude, that was four years ago. When are you going to get over her?” _

“Hey, I’m over her! Her getting pregnant by another man was pretty much all the push I needed to get over her. I just…haven’t found anyone that makes me stand up and take notice, that’s all. I don’t need all that hassle right now, anyways. Between work at the shop, the Roadhouse, and my studio, I’m barely even home these days.”

_ “Speaking of, you have that shoot tomorrow, right? Are you excited?” _

“Yeah, it’s tomorrow. The guy is supposed to be at my studio at ten. I’m more nervous than anything. It’s my first time doing anything like this. What if they don’t like my work? It’s just junk, after all. Who wants art made out of junk? After this article comes out, everyone’s going to know what a nobody I really am. I’m nothing special. I don’t even know why  _ Sculpture _ wants to do a piece on me. How did they even hear about me?”

_ “Are you kidding me right now? Your sculptures are amazing. Wonderland would not have commissioned a custom piece if you were a nobody. You may be an unknown, but you are not a nobody. It was probably Professor Turner. He’s the one who helped you to change majors, and he’s been in your corner ever since. He even keeps tabs on you after you graduated. Dean, you have nothing to worry about. All you have to do is be yourself and show him your work. That’s all. He’ll figure out all the rest.” _

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just hard, you know? When I don’t know what’s going to happen…when I can’t control it…I get nervous.”

_ “Giving up control has never seemed like a problem for you. Have you been to that club in KC recently?” _ Sam prodded teasingly, though there was no malice in his voice.  

“Dude! Talking about your kinky sex life with your little brother is in the top ten of things that should not happen. Right after telling your mom about your kinky sex life.” Dean was particularly defensive with this new topic. Sam might know about  his playing in the BDSM world, and his going to Purgatory in KC, a fetish club that caters to Dom/sub couples and individuals looking to pair up for a night, but it was a whole new thing to actually  _ talk _ about it. In the past, talking about it meant that bad things had happened.

_ “So, I’ll take that as a no. Why haven’t you gone? You’ve been before, you know the place and know you’re safe there in one of the play rooms, and it’s great stress relief for you.  It’s much better than finding a random Dom and going to their house. Especially after that last time. Even if you don’t want to go back there, I’m sure there are other clubs like it in the city, right?” _ Prodding as ever, that was Dean’s brother.

Dean’s shoulders sagged in defeat. No matter how many times he tried to change the subject, his brother always plowed on without caring that his brother was all kinds of uncomfortable with this topic of discussion. It’s not as if he was actively open about his orientation or his BDSM proclivities. Not a lot of people would understand. On the other hand, he didn’t hide anything from his brother, so he was one of the very few people that Dean had to talk to about this stuff. No matter how difficult it was to utter the words out loud. Feelings and all…

“Yeah, I know Purgatory is a pretty safe club.” Dean had heard some crazy stories online about consent issues. It’s weird. On the surface, BDSM is all about safe, sane and consensual. He’d even read that some Doms and subs had contracts, whatever those were. But the stuff you don’t hear about is the sickening amount of non-consensual activity that goes on. Purgatory has security cameras everywhere, even the private play rooms, just to protect the subs, so Dean knew that, as long as he stayed in the club, he’d be fine. “Explicit consent is a hard line for me. After Alastair…I don’t know if I could handle anything less. ” Dean paused to take a drink of his soda and unwrap his sandwich.

_ “I was so glad when you got away from him. You were a completely different person. I know the thing with Lisa was hard, but Alastair almost destroyed you. When you were in the hospital…man, I thought I’d lost you. I never want to feel that again. Dude, part of me wants you to stay the hell away from that life. It almost killed you. But the other part of me knows that it makes you happy…or at least it can. I still don’t understand why, but I understand that you need it.” _

“Thanks, Sammy. I don’t know if I can really explain why I need it…not yet, anyway. Maybe someday I’ll figure it out.” Dean remembered the hospital stay…the machines, the chill that never seemed to go away, the awful food, the way the medical staff never left him alone, coming to check on him at least every hour. The only redeeming qualities about being hospitalized were the awesome painkillers and the insanely hot nurse on the night shift. He shook himself out of the trip down memory lane and switched subjects.

“Hey, look Sammy, I’ve got about five minutes left on my break and I still have to eat my sandwich, ‘kay? Let me know when you have your flight information so I can make sure to have the day off to come get you.”

_ “Yeah, sure, I will,” _ Sam said with a sigh. He seemed really reluctant to hang up the phone, but Dean got it. He was losing someone very close to him, but he still had to live with her for another month. That was going to be torture. All Dean could do at this point was be there to pick up the pieces when the time came.

“Hey…I really am sorry. I know you were happy and all. I won’t even say it’s for the best, because I personally know what a crock of shit that is. It hurts, plain and simple. You just get through your finals and come home, okay? Graduation is still set for June 16 th , right?”

_ “Yeah, it’s at ten o’clock in the morning, on campus. Are you still coming?” _

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Hell, even Bobby, Ellen, and Jo are coming. The first time The Roadhouse has been closed in…well, ever. Hey, why don’t you try to get your plane ticket for the same flight we take back, after graduation?”

_ “Sure. That would certainly make things easier. I’ll check to see if there are still seats available on that flight.” _ Sam paused, letting out a deep sigh.  _ “I’d better let you get back to your mistress. Shelby, you said, right? What color?” _

Dean laughed out loud at this, and replied, “Deep sapphire blue. Looks almost black in some light. She’s beautiful. Okay, little brother, I’ll talk to you soon, ‘kay? Don’t be a stranger.”

_ “Okay, Dean. And hey, thanks. I know you took your whole break to talk to me, so thank you.” _

“Like I said, you’re my brother. Family comes first. Bobby understands that. Catch ya later, bro.” After hearing the responding ‘Yep, sure thing’ from Sam, Dean ended the call and dug into his sandwich.

A few minutes later, Bobby walked in. “I been lookin’ for you, boy. You been in here the whole time?” Bobby may look stern, but there was a hint of concern in his voice.

Dean crumpled up the trash from his lunch and launched it at the garbage bin. “Yeah, Bobby. Sam’s having some girl trouble. Turns out he’s gonna spend the summer at home. Needs time to figure things out, ya know? Personally, I think he just needs to be around people who don’t ask stupid questions and won’t treat him with kid gloves just because his girl was a skank. It’s not his fault she stepped out.”

“Man, I bet. Well, it’ll be good to have him home for a while. I know we won’t be seeing much of him for the next few years. Better get in as much time as we can before then. Now. You gonna get back to work, or do I need to start dockin’ yer pay?” Bobby raised an eyebrow and plastered on his best frowny boss face. It worked on most people, but not Dean. He practically grew up with that face, and he knew that that expression was just Bobby’s natural state of affairs.

“Yeah, yeah, old man,” he teased, “don’t get your panties in a twist. I’ll have the engine on the Shelby done by closing. Should be ready for Garth to finish the body and paint come morning.” Dean drained his drink and went back to work.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Dean wandered into his apartment after work, kicked off his shoes and cracked open a bottle of beer.  He stripped on his way to the bathroom, tossing his ratty jeans and t-shirt into the hamper in the corner. He wore coveralls over his street clothes when he was at the garage, but they still got grimy with sweat. As he waited for the shower to warm up, he took a few pulls from his beer. Dean lived alone and had no animals. Hell, he didn’t even have any neighbors. His apartment was in one part of an old warehouse that he used as his studio. He’d bought the place with the earnings from his first commission and renovated what had been the upstairs corner office. He started humming “Taking Care of Business” under his breath as he stepped underneath the hot spray.

The water washed away the tension he’d felt since he talked to Sammy. He had been surprised by the turn of events. The one time he’d met Jess, she was very sweet and seemed completely head over heels for his brother. Of course, she was totally out of his league…or so Dean thought at the time. She certainly didn’t seem the type to step out. Dean shook off the thought and went about his shower.

As he was massaging shampoo through his hair, Sam’s words about his sex life came back to him. . It really had been awhile since he’d been to Purgatory. Maybe he should try again. The thought of checking out the club’s online forum to see if there was a suitable Dom available for play left a hitch in his breath. The club had so many options. Committed couples could use the play rooms and equipment, or even the public stages, if they liked the voyeuristic aspect. Singles could go to the club just to observe, or even hook up with someone on the spot. 

The option that appealed to Dean, however, was the forum for the club online. There were postings of Doms and subs who were looking for a play partner or particular kinks, and usually there were pictures to help you make your decision. It made Dean laugh at how similar it all was to a vanilla dating website. If you saw someone you liked, you messaged them. If they responded, you started up a conversation. If you decided to play, you went over all the rules and wants for the scene, maybe even meeting beforehand for coffee or something, just to see if you really were compatible before you got naked. Dean wished he’d stumbled on to that option much earlier in his experience. It would have saved a lot of pain.

The thought of playing, though, had his blood pumping. As he soaped up his body to rid it of the grease and sweat, his hands moved purposefully over his nipples, giving each one a sharp pinch before travelling down his torso. He closed his eyes and thought about  one of his first visits to the club. He’d ended up not playing with anyone, but he sat for a while and watched a rope-tying exhibition. Shibari, if he remembered correctly. He sat, enthralled, as the sub—a petite brunette that reminded him too much of Lisa—was systematically tied and then suspended. Her shins were lashed to her thighs; her arms were bound behind her back, forearms secured together with the stark white rope. There was a rope harness on her torso, squeezing her delightfully red tits. The harness went up and around her neck, then down her back and connecting to her ankles. She was suspended in this position, prone. When pushed, she swayed back and forth, like a pendulum. Which her two Doms took full advantage of. Both had their dicks out and she was alternately impaled from behind and filled down her throat as she moved between them. Except she wasn’t moving. She didn’t have that control, her Doms did. This was the memory that Dean savored the most…the part where she was in motion but wasn’t moving. It was beautiful and powerful and he’d had to find a dark corner to finish himself off after the scene ended.

Dean had become completely hard at the memory, his right hand moving up and down his length in a slow but steady rhythm. His left hand pinched a nipple again, to send the jolt of pain to his cock. This prompted his hand to go faster, his pelvis jerking slightly as he fucked his fist.

Dean didn’t know why he liked to submit, just that he did. He’d had to make so many decisions for him and Sammy growing up, was in charge of taking care of his brother and himself, that he actually became sick of making decisions. But whenever John was home, he’d bark out orders and never question that they’d be followed. 

And, just like that, Dean completely deflated. Nothing acts like a cold shower, even in the middle of a hot one, like random thoughts of the old man. Heaving a huge sigh, Dean rinsed off and shut off the water.

He tried to remember the good times as he put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt.  There were the road trips to go see Uncle Bobby, before Bobby moved to Lawrence. Hunting trips where Dad taught him to handle a shotgun and a rifle, and to put food on the table. The excitement of seeing all sorts of new places and getting to say he’d seen the world’s biggest ball of twine. But then there had been the regimented way that everything had to be done. Laundry folded just so, perfect military bed corners, always be on time. Always look after Sammy. Yes Sir, no Sir, thank you Sir.

Dean grabbed a take-out menu and his phone, calling his favorite Chinese place for delivery. He didn’t really feel like going anywhere tonight, not with the decidedly dreary bent on his thoughts at the moment. He wouldn’t subject his friends to this kind of mood. Besides, he knew he just had to work through it, or it would continue to eat at him in the morning during his photo shoot. He can’t have this shit hanging over his head for that. Nothing to do but just work through it. At least he was alone, and didn’t have to talk it out with anyone. He may hate talking about his feelings, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t recognize the importance of processing emotions. Especially after Alastair.

So, he grabbed another beer, set some cash out on the counter for the delivery guy, and wandered over to the couch to find the remote. He flipped to a Dr. Sexy re-run and kept the volume low so he could listen for the buzzer before becoming lost in his thoughts.

The road trips had been fun, at first. It was a novelty. Just Sam, Dean, and their dad, out on the open road going nowhere in particular. Usually they only road-tripped during school breaks. Dean got suspicious when they started moving around during school. Especially when they came around to Lawrence again and didn’t stay in their house. John had just grumbled something about selling it. After that, the road trips weren’t fun anymore. They were just something to be endured, while John looked for work. It wasn’t till years later that Dean understood. When Dean’s mom died, all those years ago, she took John with her and just left his body behind. He would go through the motions of being a father, but he was never really present for it. The boys never had birthday parties or Christmas dinners, they never had friends for sleepovers. And after the wandering really set in, they never stayed in one place long enough to spend an entire grade in one location.

All that stopped when Dean was fifteen and just starting high school. Bobby had just moved to Lawrence, ostensibly to open up his salvage yard and auto shop. But Dean still thought to this day that Bobby was worried about the Winchester boys and wanted to make sure they were looked after. Apparently, the senior Winchester agreed, because the first day of high school John picked up both boys from their respective schools and dropped them off at Bobby’s. They never saw John again. He came around at some point, because on the morning of Dean’s seventeenth birthday he found the Impala parked outside of Bobby’s house, with a ‘Happy Birthday’ balloon tied to the side mirror, keys in the mailbox. 

Dean still drove her partly in remembrance of the father he used to have, but also out of respect. The Impala was the one constant in Dean and Sam’s lives.  Dean knew every nut and bolt, every ding that’s been pounded out, every scratch that’s been buffed to smoothness. Taking care of Baby was what got him interested in mechanical engineering in the first place. That, and working at the salvage yard. Dean was always jerry-rigging machines out of this and that. One year, Sammy wanted to be a ghost hunter for Halloween. So Dean made an EMF meter out of an old Walkman. Sucker worked, too.

A loud buzz interrupted his thoughts, indicating that dinner was waiting at the door. He paid the delivery guy and shut the door, walking over to the kitchen counter. He transferred his dinner to a plate and sat back down on the couch. A side effect of moving around so much was hating take-out containers. They reminded him of the impermanence of his life growing up. The simple act of using a plate and actual cutlery grounded him in the feeling of  _ home _ . Pleased that it wasn’t just one episode of his favorite show but a marathon, he turned the volume up a little, and settled in for an evening with his favorite sexy doctor. 


	4. Chapter 3 Kick the Tires and Light the Fires

The early morning light bled through the drapes of the hotel room, waking Castiel a full hour before his alarm. He tried like hell to shut out the light, pulling a pillow tight over his head, but it didn’t work. A low groan escaped his throat as he threw the pillow across the room. He reluctantly sat up, letting the sheet pool at his waist, while he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He glanced over at the alarm clock and saw that it was 6:30 a.m. Shit. He had a lot of time to kill. The upside to that was he had plenty of time to caffeinate. Looking around the room, he noticed one of those little single cup coffee brewers. Normally, nothing gets him out of bed before 8 a.m. Coffee is the one exception. It really was a good thing he hadn’t become a doctor. The hours would have killed him.

Castiel got out of bed and stumbled over to the mini coffee maker. Once he had a cup brewing, he went to the bathroom and relieved himself. The coffee was ready by the time he made it back, so he took the cup over to the bed and climbed in again. He turned the TV on and flipped channels. Forty-five minutes and another cup of coffee later, Castiel was ready to start his day. He showered, but didn’t bother shaving. He was meeting another artist, not a magazine publisher. He could meet this guy as one artist to another. Besides, his hair was having a particularly unruly day, since it didn’t take well to the increased humidity. Why not just go with it and make it a look, right?

As he was eating breakfast in the restaurant downstairs, he received a text message from Gabriel.

 _From Gabriel_  
_8:40AM_  
_Good luck 2day lil bro! knock em dead. Oh, and c if he nds an agent!_  


Castiel sighed and responded with:

_From Me_  
_8:41AM_  
_Gabriel, I will not pimp you out to my assignment. If it comes up, I will ask him about his representation. But I will not bring it up and I will not force the issue._  


_From Gabriel_  
_8:45AM_  
_Bro, relax. Not asking u 2 whore urself out or anything. Just feel him out, k? Do ur big bro a solid, I’ll make it worth ur while, promise._  


_From Me_  
_8:49AM_  
_We’ll see. I have no idea what this man is like. All I know is a little bit about his education and his art. He may be a complete assbutt for all I know._  


_From Gabriel_  
_8:53AM_  
_Assbutt? Rly? We need 2 get u out of the house more often. Get u laid._  


_From Me_  
_8:59AM_  
_Seriously Gabriel, I must go. I need to make sure all my equipment is packed properly into the car before I leave._  


_From Gabriel_  
_9:01AM_  
_Riiiight. Equipment. I bet ur all packed, lol U have seen a picture of this guy, right?_  


_From Me_  
_9:02AM  
_ _Um, no, why?_

_From Gabriel_  
_9:02AM_  
[ _Download image_  
](http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20131108165917/smallville/images/d/d9/Jensen_Ackles_Alison_Dyer_2005-05.jpg)

_From Me_  
_9:05AM_  
_Oh._  


_From Gabriel_  
_9:05AM_  
_Yeah, oh, lol. Go get em tiger! Have fun storming the castle!_  


Castiel swallowed hard as he continued to stare at the photo his brother sent him. He hadn’t expected Winchester to be so…appealing. He was shaken out of his thoughts by the waitress coming by with his check. He paid her and quickly made his way up to his room.

Castiel didn’t like to leave his equipment in the car, so he’d had to lug it up to his room only to lug it back down when it was time to leave. Before he left his room, he went through the large case one more time, making sure all his batteries were charged and that he had all his lights and lenses, and his tablet. Satisfied after one last check of the case and a last look in the mirror, he made his way down to the car. Using his GPS, he spent the fifteen minute drive to what looked like an abandoned warehouse in silence.

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Normally, Dean would get up on a Saturday morning, eat a few Pop-Tarts, and chug a cup of coffee before heading down to the studio. Living in the same building had its perks, and having no one see his bed head as he got to work with the torch was one of them.

Today, however, was different. He had that damned photo shoot. Dean wondered why he even said yes. Then he remembered. Bella, his agent, had been pretty convinced that it would put him on the map. Dean was fine with that. Exposure was good. It was how she went about it that bothered him. She made the deal with  _ Sculpture _ without his permission, then worked him into a corner until he agreed to do it. She said she had pictures of him and Alastair. He never saw them, but the fact that she even knew the man’s name was enough to make Dean back down and fall in line. It may have been necessary for Sam to know all about that stuff, but having it broadcast for the world to see would have broken him.

So he knew he had to put his best game face on today. That meant a shower (no shave, Dean didn’t shave on the weekend for  _ anyone _ ) and decent clothes. By decent, that meant his least ratty ratty jeans. The ones that were frayed like a serape but with no holes. He was going to work with the torch, after all. And, to be just a bit snarky, an old Metallica t-shirt that was just this side of too tight. Tight enough to show off the goods, but not so tight as to be considered obscene. The shirt was a light grey and showed off his biceps very well. He topped everything off with his steel-toed work boots.

Dean made his way to the kitchen and set about making breakfast. If he was going to have to deal with people, especially a stranger, he needed food in his belly. Bacon, eggs, and coffee it was. The good stuff, too. Dean got into his special stash of grounds that Sammy had sent him for his birthday. Some sort of blend that he would never be able to name, but oh man did it taste good! Usually, he needed at least two cups of coffee in the morning to be civil. With this stuff, one cup lasted him all morning.

Once he was done with breakfast, he washed and dried the dishes, putting them away. He had no intention of having the photographer in his living space, but growing up the way he did had taught him to always prepare for the worst. That done, he made his way out the door and down the stairs to his studio on the main floor of the warehouse. At the bottom of the stairs, he flipped a few switches and all the lights went on. Depressing a large red button had a huge bay door retracting, leaving the warehouse open to the late spring air. It was a little bit chilly right now, but he would warm up once he got started cutting sheet metal today.  

Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was only 9:30 a.m. He was not going to just stand there and wait for half an hour, so he got to work. He figured it would be pretty obvious to the photographer where he was when he arrived. With that thought, he moved over to the clothing rack near the base of the stairs and  selected a long-sleeved heavy flannel shirt and put it on over his t-shirt, buttoning it up to the top. He also picked up a pair of leather work gloves that went past the cuff of his shirt, and his welder’s helmet.

Moving over to the table containing his current project, he started sorting through the pieces he planned on working with today. The day’s goal was to get ten scale pieces cut. He already had the outline of each scale, but he needed to use the plasma torch and cut out the intricate scroll pattern he had designed for each one. Each piece of metal had already been properly shaped, so cutting the delicate design was all that needed to happen today. And polishing, if he could get to that. Normally, he would set a goal three times as much, but with the tag-a-long that was about to show up, he’d be lucky to get his ten in.

Selecting the first scale, he went over to the BurnTable and set the system up. It was an automated system that could cut the same design over and over. At first, he’d balked at an automated system, saying that wasn’t creating, that it was assembly line bullshit. Sammy reminded him that he created the design that was cut over and over, and he finally relented. He could still use the handheld if he wanted to, and he often did. But this particular project was very repetitive and the BurnTable had already saved him a lot of money by not having to scrap pieces gone bad. 

The scales were made of steel sheet metal and were oblong, roughly the size of a large cutting board. The design cut out a fair chunk of the metal and was very detailed, so each piece took about fifteen minutes from set to finish with the torch. Dean set the first piece and, after pulling up the correct design with the computer, started the machine. He walked away, letting the equipment do its work, checking on the progress every now and then. 

Dean was getting out the materials to polish the scales when a car pulled up in front of the open bay door.

_ Oh, for fuck’s sake! A hybrid? Really? _

Dean was totally prepared to hate the pretentious fuck, even started to go back to his work, when the man stepped out of his car. Dean had heard stories of time standing still, or going in slow motion. He always thought the person telling the tale was yankin’ his chain or just remembering it through the fog of important life events. Until now, that is.

As the man stepped out of his car, looking around and squinting in the sun, Dean’s world stopped. Dean could tell a few things right off the bat. First, the man was hot. Like, grab a fire hose hot. He was also athletic. Not a muscle-bound ‘roid head, but lean and strong, like a runner. He was tall, too, almost as tall as Dean. He had dark hair that looked like it had had an argument with a light socket, and a light scruff that Dean wanted to… _ Woah, tiger. Down, boy. He’s here to do a job. Just remember that we aren’t particularly happy with this whole arrangement in the first place, and we’ll do just fine. _ As Dean was distracted by giving his dick a mental talking-to, the photographer had time to walk right up to Dean without him noticing.

“Dean Winchester, I presume?” And damn…that voice. Dean’s dick perked right up, mental talking-to be damned.

After clearing his throat, Dean replied, “Yep, that’s me. Are you the photographer?”

“Yes, my name is Castiel Novak. I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Winchester.” With that, Castiel held out his hand to shake.

Dean started to reach out, realized that he still wore a leather work glove, and retracted his hand. After removing the glove, he stuck his hand out to shake the hand that had been proffered. It was a nice strong handshake. His hands had soft calluses, which surprised Dean. He didn’t remember photography being particularly hard on the hands, unless he was still developing film the old fashioned way. 

“Please, call me Dean. We don’t stand on airs around here. Well, might as well come on in. Do you want a tour first, or do you want to grab your gear now?” He raked his hand through his hair, surprised at how his nerves had been transformed from nerves about the shoot to being nervous in the presence of this man.

“I would at least like to get one camera out now, that way I can take pictures as we walk. Would that be alright with you?” Castiel seemed nervous, shifting from one foot to the other.

Dean paused to look at the man, unsure as to why he would be nervous. Dean should be the one that’s nervous. Hell, he  _ was _ nervous. 

“Yeah man, sure. Whatever you need.” He turned around and went back to the BurnTable while Castiel got out what looked like a very nice Nikon. He could hear the man approaching him from behind. 

“Don’t get too close,” he called out. “The plasma torch can burn your retinas. If you’re gonna be anywhere near it, you need to wear these safety glasses.” Dean tossed Castiel  a pair of tinted safety glasses from a storage drawer underneath the table. 

“You can look at it through your camera, as long as you’re at least ten feet away. You can always zoom in, if you wanna. I’m not sure what the minimum safe distance for looking through a lens is, so we’ll go with ten feet. But you still gotta wear the safety glasses otherwise. Also, don’t come within five feet unless you’re wearing natural fibers that are completely covering you. Since you’re wearing short sleeves today, you won’t be getting’ near this baby if she’s workin’. Same basic rules apply with the arc welder, although that one has a bit more splatter potential.” 

Dean turned to look at Castiel , making sure the words were sinking in. Satisfied that the man had paid attention, Dean nodded his head once. “Great. Lemme just check on this one piece and then I’ll give you the fifty-cent tour.” 

Dean put his helmet back on and turned his attention to the BurnTable. The scale was almost done, so he watched as it finished. Once the design was done, the machine went into a standby mode, turning off the torch. Dean lifted his helmet so he could see better and dislodged the scale from the harness it had been in. As he turned it this way and that, looking for imperfections, he heard the clicking of a camera behind him. He turned to see Castiel with the camera to his eye.

Castiel lowered the camera with a  guilty look on his face. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I am supposed to get shots of you while you’re working, after all. I should have waited until you were ready. I apologize.” 

“Nah, man, it’s alright. Look, I can’t say as I’m happy about this whole photo shoot thing; I was kinda roped into it by my agent. But that’s not your fault, and you’re here to do a job. Don’t apologize for doin’ your job.” Dean walked the completed scale over to the main table and placed it in the pile of scales to be polished. He selected another scale blank and set it into the BurnTable. “Put the glasses on or turn your head for a minute,” he told Castiel, as he lowered his face shield. Checking to make sure Castiel  had complied, Dean started the plasma torch to cutting again.

“Well, that one will take about fifteen minutes to finish. How ‘bout that tour?” Dean removed his helmet and gloves and set them on the main workbench. He started walking to one end of the warehouse and Castiel followed. “Way over in that corner,” Dean said, as he pointed to a huge heap of scrap metal, “is my scrap pile. I get most of it from Bobby, my boss at the auto shop. I also get a bunch of my machinery bits there, too, from the scrapyard. It all goes in that pile until I figure out something to do with it. Next to that are some finished pieces that I haven’t sold yet, or that haven’t been picked up.” 

There were four large finished pieces next to the scrap pile. One was a commission that hasn’t been picked up; the other three were pieces that wouldn’t let him sleep until he’d finished them. Dean hoped that the photographer would shoot at least one of the unsold pieces. If it ended up in the magazine, maybe he would sell it. That could pay for an entire semester of law school for Sammy. 

“You can see all the pulleys and winches I have, for lifting the heavy pieces and holding them in place until I can weld them together.” Dean pointed to the ceiling, very high up, so that Castiel could get a shot of all the rigging gear up there. “I also have a few forklifts that can move things around and a moveable scaffold so I can climb up high when I need to.”

“What’s that, at the top of those stairs?” Castiel pointed to Dean’s living space.

“That’s where I live.” Castiel smiled at this and Dean prompted, “What? Is that funny?”

“No,” Castiel replied. “I live in my studio as well. It is not quite as large as this, but it is still larger than most studios. I also have a fair amount of rigging.” Castiel’s eyes twinkled as he looked up at the hardware on the ceiling, lost in thought. “How did you come to have this place?”

“When I graduated KU, I sold my senior project to some rich guy back east. It was enough to buy this place, have the one corner renovated into a living space, and pay for all my brother’s housing, fees, and expenses for his first few years at Stanford.” Dean counted his lucky stars that Sam had chosen Stanford. They had a program that was a tuition free-ride for every undergrad. He had spent so long worrying about being able to provide for Sam’s education that the program had been a big relief.

“Wow. That must have been some piece.” Castiel’s voice displayed obvious awe.

“Yeah, it was. Too bad I haven’t been able to find another buyer like Mr. Roman. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have to work at the garage all the time, even though I love the work.”

“This is Bobby Singer’s place, right? Singer Salvage and Restoration? Which part do you do? The salvaging or the restoring?” Castiel had taken photographs of every part of the tour, but paused and looked directly at Dean, waiting for his answer.

Dean felt a little self-conscious having the man’s complete attention. But he also felt a little flutter in his core at the attention. Castiel had stopped taking pictures to fully listen to Dean’s reply, even though it wasn’t about his sculptures. Like the answer was worth hearing. He didn’t really know what to do with the attention, so he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and continued on. “I do the engine work and the heavy body work for the restorations. Even though I love it, that’s the work that pays the bills, you know?”

Castiel huffed a good natured laugh. “Yes, I know that concept very well.” He indicated to the camera in his hands, then made a sweeping gesture at the warehouse. “I do the freelancing for art magazines to keep the lights on. The one saving grace is that at least I’m photographing art, even if it is other people's. My own work is…rather unique.” Castiel went back to photographing the various parts of the studio space and stopped when he got to what looked like a big open oven along one wall. “Is this a forge?” he asked, while taking a few shots of it, seemingly very interested in the equipment.

Dean lit up, not noticing the  subject change, and supplied, “Yeah, when I have pieces that need to be shaped I can pound them out into what I need. If I need something heavy duty, very intricate, or huge, I use the foundry at the university and I cast it. I don’t do that enough to justify having a foundry, but the forge has saved me from having to buy certain pieces custom from a blacksmith.” Just then, the plasma torch kicked off so Dean made his way over to the table, indicating for Castiel to follow.

“So, what’s the current project?”

Dean carefully removed the scale from the table and showed it to Castiel. “This is a scale. I’m making a very large dragon. It will be suspended from the ceiling and the wings will actually work. I have the motors made already; I just have to make them fit in with the rest of the piece once it’s all constructed.”

Castiel  was visibly impressed, and reached a hand out to touch the scale, but kept his fingers a safe distance until he had permission. “I wouldn’t just yet,” Dean warned, “it hasn’t been polished yet, so the edges are extremely sharp. I’m assuming you’d like to keep the use of your fingers, right?” Dean smirked at Castiel, then promptly blushed when the man raised an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth. Dean’s eyes briefly fell to the other man’s lips then snapped back up to his eyes. 

“’Kay. So. What all do you need from me? We’ve done the tour. What kind of shots are you supposed to get?” Dean averted his gaze and went about loading a new scale blank onto the table and starting the process again. With that done, Dean turned away and led Castiel away from the plasma torch.

“Mostly I just need pictures of you working in the studio space. Ideally, I’d love to have you working with each major method of metal manipulation that you use, but I understand if the forge is out. I understand that they can be expensive to run. I’d also like to see you working on a car.”

Dean answered reluctantly, “Well, I don’t really have a project going right now where I’d need the forge, and my welder’s being a temperamental bitch right now, so they’re both out. As for the cars, well, that’s my job, I can’t just have a shadow in the shop all day. Besides, it’s really got nothin’ to do with my sculptures.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Castiel countered, with practiced evenness. ” You get a lot of your materials at the scrap yard, don’t you? Also, I read in your file that working on cars is what inspired you to go to school in the first place. It sounds like the shop is a very important part of your life,” He tilted his head ever so slightly to one side and waited for an answer.

“I dunno. I’ll ask Bobby, but I doubt he’d want the distraction,” Dean said, shifting from foot to foot. He didn’t really like  his art world and his work world to collide like that.

“You never know, he may appreciate the publicity.”

“Dude, you sound like my agent,” Dean said, with a decidedly sour note to his voice.

Castiel winced.“Ouch. That hurts.” 

“Oh, so you’ve heard of her, eh?” A small amount of mirth infiltrated the sour in Dean’s voice.

“Yes, I have heard of Ms. Talbot. She has a reputation for being…self-serving.” It was obvious Castiel was trying to be professional through his distaste. Dean had no such compunctions.

“If by self-serving you mean conniving, manipulative bitch, then yes. But who am I to mince words. I would love to drop her, but I’m locked in my contract for another six months. Part of me really doesn’t want to sell anything just to deny her her part of the commission, ya know?”

“I do,” Castiel said. “I had a very shady agent for about a year or so. He was very exploitative of my work. My brother, Gabriel, is my agent now. Of course, that comes with its own issues,” Castiel laughed, thinking of the string of texts this morning from his brother.

“Yeah, dealing with family is its own set of fun-house rules. Hey, I’m gonna get to work, you just do your thing and let me know if you need anything from me, okay? Don’t forget the safety glasses. Don’t wanna damage those baby blues.” Dean smiled wide and, with a sparkle in his eye, turned around and got to work.

Dean internally chastised himself and congratulated himself at the same time. Flirting in a setting like this was wholly unprofessional, but this situation would not last forever. Dean just had to know if he was barking up the wrong tree. And what a tree it was! Dean had to take several grounding breaths before he felt he could safely approach the BurnTable.

Today just might turn out to be a good day, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sculpture that inspired Dean’s dragon](http://www.uram.net/eng_new/intro_en.html)


	5. Chapter 4 Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for NSFW image links. They are only links, so the chapter is safe to read in a public setting. Just make sure to check out the links later ;)

Castiel was well and truly fucked. The entire time Dean Winchester was leading him around the studio space and explaining things to him, it took every ounce of self-control to not stare at the man. Castiel would get distracted by the color of his eyes, the shape of his jaw, the skill and ease with which his hands worked. The worst part was when the artist indicated the rigging gear on the ceiling of the warehouse. He knew it was for the sculptures, but Castiel had not been able to stop thinking about suspending Dean from the rafters. With the way both of the long walls of the warehouse opened up with huge bay doors, letting in all sorts of natural lighting, doing a suspension in that space with all the heavy equipment around would be a very strong masculine statement. So much of the images available were pretty dainty women tied up in graceful poses that belied the strength and skill it took to be a rope bottom. Castiel was adamant about displaying that strength, whether his models were male or female, on the rare occasions he used females.

He took a small sigh of relief as Dean went to work, turning his back on Castiel. He went over to the car and opened his gear case, but left it in the trunk. He didn’t want to have any more gear out than necessary, because of all the dust and metal particles flying about. He switched his lens for a wide-angle one and went about taking photos of each part of the studio again, carefully positioning the shots for artistic value, not just to impart information. He took a few shots of Dean while he was on the other side of the warehouse, capturing the man hard at work with the bright light of the plasma torch casting an ethereal glow on him. He took a few minutes to appreciate the figure before him, taking advantage of his attention being elsewhere. Dean was wearing loose jeans and a large flannel shirt, but Castiel had been looking at the human body for long enough to know that Dean was very fit. He almost ached to be able to find out just how fit he really was.

 _Unprofessional!!_ He chastised himself for letting his thoughts stray about an assignment. _It’s just been awhile since you’ve had someone to appreciate intimately, not just in a photo-shoot setting. Get a grip. He probably doesn’t even like men. Although, it doesn’t hurt to test the waters to confirm or deny that theory._

_...Dear God, I’m sounding more and more like Gabriel!_

Castiel checked his battery and went back to the car. He switched out the memory card and the battery and grabbed his close-up lens before walking over to the main table where Dean was working on polishing one of the scales that had already been cut.

“What are you doing with these?” Castiel asked, the soft click of the camera following the question.

“What?” Dean asked, absorbed in his work. “Oh, I’m polishing them. I’m making sure all the edges where the metal was cut away are smooth, and using a patina process to turn the steel a dark purple color. The finished dragon is going to be a gradation of purples and blues.”

Castiel continued to take photos, although he was pretty sure he had the shots he needed for the magazine. He just didn’t want the interaction to end quite yet.

“Is this one a commission? How’d you get the idea for it?” Castiel was genuinely curious and lowered the camera, waiting for an answer.

“Nah, it’s not a commission. It’s one of the bitch pieces that won’t leave me alone ‘til it’s finished.” Castiel nodded in sympathy, having spent more than one sleepless night planning out a shoot. “Since I’m in between commissions at the moment, it’s not a big deal. The only downfall is the amount of sheet metal I need for the project. There’s only so much steel scrap out there,” he said, indicating the scrap pile in the corner of the warehouse, “so I have to purchase the stuff for the scales. It’s a huge part of the project, and the pieces are pretty uniform, so using scrap for those parts would make it look like a patchwork dragon, ya know?” Dean smirked before he continued, and Castiel’s breath caught at the beauty that could be contained in such a small smile. “That might be fun to do some time, but that’s not what I have in mind for this one. As to where I got the idea, well…my friend Charlie is pretty much the biggest girl geek out there,” he laughed while he worked, “and one day we were watching _The Desolation of Smaug_ and she thought Smaug would have looked better if he were purple. That’s usually how this works. Someone makes a completely random, offhanded comment and my brain seizes on it and won’t let go.” Dean laughed at himself over this and continued to polish the scale in front of him.

Castiel noticed that there was a pile of four cut and polished scales and three more scales that had yet to be polished. It also did not escape his attention that Dean was blushing, as if he was enjoying the full attention.

“How many do you plan on doing today?” Castiel had glanced at his watch to find that it was nearing on 12:30 p.m., and his stomach reminded him it was past lunchtime.

Dean belted out a laugh. “Hungry?” He said, checking his watch. “I guess we could break for lunch. What’r’ya in the mood for?” He moved over to the BurnTable and removed the most recently completed scale and turned off the machine. After setting the scale on the main table, he started to remove his safety gear, hanging the articles up in their proper spots.

Castiel’s mouth went dry as Dean removed the flannel over shirt and hung it up. The grey t-shirt underneath was just tight enough to hug every muscle the man possessed. Shaking off the mental image of the cut torso bound in dark green jute, Castiel told Dean that he was more than happy to go back to his hotel to eat; he didn’t want to impose on Dean’s time more than necessary.

“Nah, man, ‘s no trouble. ‘Sides, you have to taste Ellen’s burgers. Wait…do you like burgers? You’re not some twigs and bark health freak like my brother, are ya?” Dean’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, eyeing the evil hybrid car parked out front.

Castiel laughed. “No. I may have the occasional salad, but I do enjoy red meat.” Castiel said this very pointedly and looked straight at Dean as he said it, to gauge the man’s reaction. Dean’s eyes widened just a hair, and Castiel did not miss the small hitch in his breath. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he would have missed it.

_Interesting. Promising, too._

“Ah…okay then…give me fifteen minutes to get cleaned up and we’ll go. You might want to pack up your gear and lock it. There’s not a lot of traffic out this way, but it sure is dusty. If you want, you can pull your car around the back, so it’s out of view. I’ll drive, since you haven’t been here before.” With that, Dean took off up the stairs to his apartment.

Castiel smiled to himself and went back to the car. He took out his messenger bag and put the memory cards from the morning, his tablet, and his smaller Nikon into it. He locked up everything else into the trunk and moved his car around back, like Dean suggested, parking next to a black muscle car that was in perfect condition. The photographer in him could not resist snapping a few shots of the black beauty on his way by. He wondered if that was one of the cars Dean has restored.

Since he had taken his time, Dean was just getting to the bottom of the stairs by the time Castiel returned. His hair was wet, and Castiel had a momentary fantasy about washing the man down. Clearing his throat in an attempt to wipe the images from his mind, Castiel said, “Ready?”

“For Ellen’s burgers? Hell yeah! C’mon, I’ll introduce you to my baby.”

Castiel tilted his head to one side as Dean pushed a big red button on the wall twice and both sets of bay doors closed. He was not aware that Dean had a child. Did this mean he was married? Castiel sighed, defeated. _The hottest ones are always straight,_ he lamented. Dean led Castiel through the warehouse to a regular sized door in the far corner. After turning off the interior lights, he opened the door for Castiel to exit, then followed, locking the door behind him.

Dean walked over to the muscle car and trailed a finger lovingly up the length of the hood. “Baby, meet Cas. Cas, this is my baby.”

Castiel tilted his head in amusement. “Cas?”

“Oh, shit…sorry. Is it okay if I call you Cas? Castiel just seems so…formal. Like you should have a bible shoved up your ass, or something. No offense, man, it’s just that, well, we _are_ in the bible belt.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck in the gesture that Castiel was quickly learning was Dean’s tell when he was nervous about something.

Castiel chuckled at Dean’s analogy, amused. “You are not wrong, my friend. You have no idea how close you are to the truth there. Cas is…acceptable,” he said, with a small smile. He may have been a bit more pleased than he would ever admit that “baby” was Dean’s car, not a child. Another promising little factoid. Not that Castiel was against children, on the contrary. He just had a momentary fear that Dean had a family, including a wife or husband.

Dean flushed at the ready acceptance of the nickname. Castiel resolved then to make Dean blush as much as possible. Dean was beautiful when he blushed.

Both men got in the car and Dean started the engine. Castiel had never been much of a car enthusiast, but even he had to admit that the deep rumble emanating from the vehicle spoke of barely restrained power like a thoroughbred at the starting gate. Castiel turned to Dean and said, “She’s absolutely beautiful, Dean. How long have you had her?”

“I got her when I was seventeen, but she was my dad’s before that. Kind of a family heirloom…at least, what passes for one in my family,” Dean chuckled, but there was no real humor in the statement. “Actually, workin’ on Baby and learning how to take care of her is what got me into mechanical engineering in the first place. After I started workin’ on cars, I started tinkerin’ with other machines and the rest is history.” Dean pulled out of the parking area behind his building and onto the road leading into town.

“I’m curious, Dean. Why did you decide to drop mechanical engineering and move to sculpture?” Castiel had been wondering about this since he got the assignment.

Dean grinned at the memory. “Well, as an artist you might understand. Not everyone did. My friend, Ash, was goin’ to MIT at the time. He’d invited me up for what was supposed to be a crazy three-day weekend bender while I was on spring break, but turned into Ash getting stoned off his ass the first night and becoming absolutely useless for the next two days. So, I explored. MIT has an awesome museum, and there was an exhibit of Arthur Ganson’s there. His work is machinery as art. You turn a crank or press a pedal and off it goes. That next Monday I changed my major.”

As the car slowed to a stopped at a red light, Castiel looked over at Dean and said, in all seriousness, “Actually, I really do understand. I started out pre-med.” He was used to the shock that this revelation usually incited, but all he saw in Dean’s face was awe and admiration. A kindred spirit that took a huge leap of faith, and damn the consequences all to Hell. Castiel settled into his seat and they enjoyed the rest of the drive in a comfortable silence.

As they pulled up to The Roadhouse, Castiel raised an eyebrow at the old saloon style. This was the place they were going to for lunch? Castiel had to trust Dean, as he was a local and would know the best places to eat.

Dean seemed to sense his apprehension and interrupted Castiel’s thoughts. “The Roadhouse has been around for ages. Ellen is kinda like a surrogate mom, I’ve known her since I was little. She makes a mean burger. Plus, I tend bar here most weekends, so I know they’re good people.” Dean pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car. As he got out, he said to Castiel, “C’mon, let’s go eat. ‘Sides, they’d never let me forget it if I didn’t introduce ya.” He walked toward the front door and pulled it open. Castiel followed, bringing his messenger bag with him.

Walking through the front door was like stepping into a time machine. The place really was like a Wild West saloon, but it didn’t look contrived at all. It looked as if it really was an old west establishment. He almost expected to see sarsaparilla on the menu.

Dean led them to a booth by the window and yelled a hello to a pretty blond waitress. When she heard Dean’s greeting, she turned and smiled, and started walking over.

“Afternoon, boys. Dean, didn’t expect to see you on your day off. The usual?” She popped her hip as she stood there, in a blatantly flirtatious manner, and barely gave Castiel a simple glance by way of a greeting. Some service, he thought. But then again, if she worked with Dean they must have at least some sort of relationship. Maybe they had more than a co-worker type relationship. If that were the case, then Castiel would back off. But he found, to his surprise, that he _really_ hoped that it wasn’t the case. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he would think that the feeling growing in the pit of his stomach was jealousy.

Maybe he was just really hungry. Yeah, that was it. It had to be, right?

The feeling seemed to increase when Dean flashed what could only be described as a million dollar smile at the young woman. “Yeah, Jo, the usual, with sweet tea, please. Cas, this is my friend Jo. Jo, this is Cas. He’s that photographer from _Sculpture Magazine._ Jo and I have been friends since, well, forever. I don’t remember a time when she wasn’t annoying the piss outta me.” He winked at the waitress and she just rolled her eyes at him.

“Please. He was the oldest and took it upon himself to make my and Sam’s lives miserable. Like it was his life’s mission, or something.” She had a little bite to her tone, but Castiel could detect the hints of fondness underneath. So. She was more family than anything. Good. The monster that had started to grow in the pit of his stomach settled down a bit.

“What’re you gonna have, darlin’?” She turned to face Castiel, pencil ready on her notepad.

Castiel hadn’t even so much as opened the menu, so he took the opportunity at that moment. Noticing that it was mostly burgers and steaks—standard bar and grill type fare—he ordered a bacon cheeseburger with the works on it, and unsweet tea to drink.

“Comin’ right up, boys,” she said with a wink, walking back toward the kitchen area.

“Psh,” Dean said, “unsweet tea. Takin’ all the fun out of it.” Dean smiled as he said it, though, so Castiel knew there was no malice in the comment.

“So, you’re a mechanic, a bartender, and a sculptor. Is there anything that you don’t do?” Castiel asked out of curiosity.

“Garden,” Dean deadpanned. “Vegetables, man, yuck!” He shivered at the last part, as if they were the most disgusting thing ever.

Castiel laughed and shook his head a little. Cute. Very cute. When did he start thinking of this man as cute? Hot, yes, but cute? Cute implied…more. Well, he’d just have to bide his time to see if there ever would be more. Castiel had to admit, though, that the more he got to know Dean, the more he wanted to learn.

He pulled out his tablet and the memory chips from his satchel. Loading one of the memory chips, he brought up the gallery and started to swipe through the pictures he took this morning. “I think we got some very promising images this morning. The editor will be pleased.”

Dean leaned forward on the table, trying to see the screen of the tablet. Castiel angled it so they both could see.

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow,” he said softly. “I never realized my work could look like that. I mean, I see it in person all the time, and hell, I created it. I know what my work looks like. But seeing it in a photograph is like looking through someone else’s eyes. Is that really how you see my sculptures?” Dean said, barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Dean. Your work is very innovative and inspired. There are not many people using machinery as art. You also have such a range, with wall-art, museum quality pieces, and large installations like Wonderscope. Most artists stick with one size.” Castiel’s voice held genuine fascination.  He  noticed that Dean squirmed a bit at the compliment and filed that information away for later.

Dean changed the subject abruptly, looking away briefly before focusing on Castiel. “What about you? You said that this kind of gig is to keep the lights on. What do you do that’s yours?”

Castiel was lost in the image of Dean squirming and thought it was almost, if not equal to, Dean blushing in how much he wanted to see it again. He wondered what it would take to create a full-on squirm, not just a little one. Ideas started to form in his head, before he remembered that Dean had asked him a question.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he replied, “Um. Well, some people are uncomfortable with my art. I have my portfolio on my tablet, if you’re interested. But I must warn you…it would be considered ‘not safe for work’, as my brother calls it.” It’s Castiel’s turn to squirm a little bit.

It’s not as if he was ashamed of his art. Quite the contrary. He was proud to display the extent that the human body can be pushed, and was honored that his models let him document them in such a manner. It took a lot of trust, and he prided himself on the effort he’d put into earning it. However, his photos appeal to a fairly small demographic, and he wasn’t sure if Dean fell into that category. He was an artist, though, and most artists have a pretty open mind. But there are some people that consider his work flat out pornography and denigrate it. All this back and forth in Castiel’s mind made him nervous to have Dean see his work.

“I’d love to see it, if you’re willing,” Dean said gently, nudging the tablet toward Castiel. “I have to say, I haven’t heard of you, but that’s not saying much. I tend to follow sculptors, not photographers. Scopin’ out the competition, you know? See what everyone else is doing.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I have a very specific niche.”

Castiel took the tablet back as Jo came up and delivered their drinks. She informed them that their food would be up shortly and left to take care of another patron a few tables away. After she left, he swapped out the memory chip to the one with his portfolio and, with no small amount of trepidation and a deep breath, turned the tablet fully around so Dean could see it.

The first image was relatively tame. The[ model](http://cumm.co.uk/male-shibari-japanese-rope-bondage/bondage-japanese-rope-5/) was nude, but his back was to the camera and only his back and arms were exposed, along with the back of his head. Dean’s eyes went a little wide and his lips parted a little bit, a barely audible gasp escaping his mouth. He reached out a hand, tentatively, to start swiping through the images. Castiel knew the order of the images by heart, and knew they were in order of increasing nudity and eroticism, with various states of arousal displayed for the camera.

Dean swallowed hard as he proceeded through the gallery of images. He took a drink of his tea, as if his mouth had gone completely dry, but his gaze never left the screen. Castiel thought it was adorable, the way his mouth searched for the straw of his beverage, tongue snaking out to grab it finally. He had to work to stifle the moan that threatened to come out at the sight. He quickly averted his gaze, lest he go down the delicious rabbit hole that the image promised.

“Dude. Um…well…that’s…I…” Dean stammered enough that a small smile lifted one corner of Castiel’s mouth. “I really don’t know what to say, man. I’ve never seen anything on this level before.” He wiped a hand down his face and continued to stare at the last image. His eyes had yet to leave the screen of the tablet.

“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” Castiel asked, with some trepidation and a small frown.

Dean responded immediately with, “Good! Man, it’s real good. I…seriously, you get to do this on a regular basis?”

Castiel grinned and replied, “Yes, although my models have day jobs so the shoots have to be scheduled at least a month in advance. I actually have a shoot scheduled for next weekend, at my studio in Chicago.” Castiel congratulated himself on his timing, because Dean’s head snapped up at this tidbit of information. “Would you be interested in observing?” Castiel asked, with one raised eyebrow.

“Um…yeah, I’d love to watch, but…isn’t that a…sexual thing? Wouldn’t I be interrupting?” Dean squirmed again, sending a small bolt of delight through Castiel.

“With my models, no, it’s not sexual,” he began, pausing to consider his words. “At least, not for me. For me, it’s art, business. I pay them to be my model and they deliver. I always have them bring someone with them for aftercare, because regardless of whether sexual activity is involved, rope bottoms still usually enter a sort of subspace. They need to have someone close to them to make sure they make it back to reality in a healthy manner.” He felt this was important to elaborate on for some reason. He had the nonsensical need for Dean to know he did not bed his models. “Most bring their significant other, one brings her sister and another brings his best friend. For most of my models it is a form of sexual release, they just don’t get it from me,” he continued, falling into the response he knew by rote when questioned about his methods. “For those models, once we’re done with the shoot I leave the studio to give them privacy. They let me know when I can return. For the others, it’s more of a calming, centering sort of activity. Something to shut their brain off, disconnect from everyday stresses. Kind of like meditation,” he offered. “The rope is like their candle to focus on. It signals that the next hour or so is going to be free of needs from family, demands of the job, and expectations of the outside world. Being suspended in rope is a very…liberating experience,” he finished, bracing for the inevitable reaction of disdain he usually received.

“So, you’ve been tied up before? Like this?” The look on Dean’s face after he asked the question suggested that it made it past the filter before he could catch it.

Castiel didn’t mind, though. If anything, it might get him closer to getting the answer he sought, without bringing up the topic himself. If Dean led the conversation there…that was acceptable.

“Yes, I have, though not in quite a few years. I discovered long ago that I much prefer to do the rigging myself.”

“What…what about the _other_ stuff?” It came out haltingly, as Dean was testing the waters of what was acceptable to talk about.

Castiel was about to reply when Jo delivered their lunch. The burger looked fantastic, and Castiel hoped it tasted just as good. His stomach growled loudly; he was _very_ hungry. They both dug into their lunches, and Castiel enjoyed the burger immensely. He moaned loudly with the first bite, and Dean’s head snapped up, his pupils dilating rapidly.

They ate in silence for most of the meal, but Castiel couldn’t help but notice that Dean’s eyes occasionally snuck a peek at the[ image](http://cumm.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/bondage-japanese-rope-erect-cock.jpg) on the tablet. “So,” Dean said, after a while. “When you were tied up…was it for something like this? For someone else’s art?” He didn’t look at Castiel when he asked the question. Dean seemed embarrassed, but was too curious to censor himself.

“Ah, no. That was for the pure enjoyment of it. It is, however, what inspired me to change my major and pursue photography instead of medicine. That, and Balthazar.”

“Who was he? If you don’t mind my asking,” Dean added  quickly, realizing that that might be too personal, despite the nature of the topic.

“Baz was…a very important person to me. I met him when I spent a summer in Japan. He taught me a great deal, about photography, about bondage, and about myself. He was a photographer and a bakushi.”

“Bakushi, what’s that?” Dean seemed to be getting more and more curious, becoming more brave with his questions. There was barely any hint of trepidation in his voice.

“A bakushi is a rope master for Kinbaku. That’s the erotic art of Japanese rope bondage. Baz was very skilled and highly respected in Tokyo. He was a great teacher. He’s the one that taught me, after we learned that I preferred to be the rigger.” Castiel was deliberately being generous with certain details, but was also just answering the questions without adding very much more information. He wanted Dean curious, asking questions. His statements were designed to keep the conversation going. He wanted to see the level of curiosity for the subject, and to see if it was going where he thought, he hoped, it was going.

“I thought that was called Shibari, or something like that,” Dean blurted out, with a confused look on his face.

“Very good,” Castiel complemented and Dean blushed again. “For most people it’s interchangeable. There are subtle differences, but not enough that the average person in the scene will care. I focus mostly on the suspension aspects of bondage when I’m doing a photo shoot.” Castiel was very pleased with the direction the conversation had taken. If Dean had heard of Shibari, the likelihood of him being in the lifestyle just went up.

“What about when you’re not doing a shoot?” Dean had his head tilted down to look at his plate, but he was looking at Castiel through his eyelashes. Castiel thought he might die and go to Heaven with that look. He had to look away quickly, or he was going to have to adjust himself in his pants. He focused on taking his tablet back, which drew a small sound of disappointment from Dean.

“I think we need to know each other a bit more before I answer that question, don’t you think?” Castiel held Dean’s gaze and raised one eyebrow in a challenge.

Dean must have realized that he had been asking some pretty personal questions. “Oh! Yeah. Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to get too personal. I’ve just never seen it on that level before. Photography may be your art, but dude. The way you tie is art in and of itself!”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, pleased. “I’m not offended by the questions. I fully realize that that the images stimulate certain feelings that are very personal and different for each observer. I leave a lot of myself in each of them, and I’m not ashamed of that. I’m used to a pretty personal line of questioning every time someone views my pictures for the first time. Some people are curious how I got into it, some want to know the logistics because how in the hell do you get the leg over the head like that.” He laughed. “I’ve even been asked if I have had sex with my models.”

Thankfully, Dean didn’t ask that question. Castiel has never slept with a model, and he considered the question itself distasteful. The assumption that he would sleep with a model…well, it’s something Gabriel would do, not Castiel.

“Bet that’s an awkward conversation.” Dean pulled out his wallet and asked, “Ready to go?”

Castiel had been so taken with the conversation that he had not noticed that Jo had left their bill on the edge of the table.“Yes, I am. But please, let me get it.” He pulled the ticket away from Dean and went for his own wallet. When it looked like Dean would argue, Castiel explained, “It’s a business expense. The magazine gave me a _per diem_ for this assignment.” He laid down thirty bucks and pocketed the ticket. Dean seemed to accept that answer and stood up, waiting for Castiel to put away his tablet and follow.

The car ride back to the warehouse was filled with a comfortable silence again, until Castiel noticed that Dean was gripping the steering wheel a bit tight. He appeared to be working himself up to ask a question. Castiel let him work through it, smiling to himself. Dean wasn’t squirming, but apparently Castiel had him thinking about what they had discussed.

“So,” Dean said, finally screwing up the courage to speak again. “This Balthazar. He still around?” His eyes were locked on the road ahead, but Castiel could tell every remaining ounce of his attention was on Castiel, and the forthcoming response. This pleased him more than he thought it would.

“No. As far as I know, he’s still in Tokyo. I haven’t seen him since I was twenty years old, and that was only for six months. It’s been nine years now.”

“Oh. Okay.” And that was the end of that.

As they pulled into the parking area behind the warehouse Castiel told Dean, “I need a few photos of you for the header of the article. Kind of like headshots, if you will. Do you think we could do those now? I would love to have you leaning against the car, since classic cars are a big part of who you are. Would that be acceptable?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” Dean mumbled nervously. “Do you want me to park the car in the middle of the lot, then? Would that be easier for you?”

“Actually, yes, it would. Thank you,” Castiel replied.

Dean parked the car and got out. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Where do you want me?”

 _Naked. Splayed out on my bed, tied to the posts and gagged._ Castiel took a brief moment to enjoy the mental image before answering. “Just lean against the hood. Act natural.”

Dean did as requested while Castiel took pictures from multiple angles and had Dean move around a bit. He stopped when Dean started shuffling from foot to foot.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “ I’m keeping you from your work. I’ll leave you to it.” He took out the key to his rental car and went to the trunk to stow his gear.

“Nah, man, ‘s’okay. I expected today to be a light day anyway. Hey, what’r ya’ doin’ tonight? When are you leaving town?” Dean had unlocked the warehouse and opened up the bay doors again, walking over to where his safety gear was hanging. He turned to get Castiel’s answer as he donned the heavy flannel again. Clearly, he was getting ready to work again.

“My flight doesn’t leave until Monday night. I have to go over all the images I took today and sort through the useful ones to see if I’m missing anything. That way, I can come back tomorrow to get the missing shots, if you’re available. Other than that, I have nothing planned. I have never been here before. I was probably just going to watch a movie on Netflix.”

“Dude, it’s Saturday night,” Dean said incredulously. “Netflix is for the middle of the week. Saturday night is for going out. Having fun. I have the entire weekend off because of the shoot. Wanna come to The Roadhouse with me tonight? You can meet Ellen and Ash.”

Dean had a look of…not quite fear, but probably closer to worry. Like Castiel may say no. It made him feel a few butterflies in his stomach. Dean wanted to spend time with him outside of the photo shoot.

“We could get to know each other more, like you suggested.” Dean’s voice shook a little with nerves.

“I think I would enjoy that very much. What time were you thinking?” Castiel thought he would enjoy getting to know Dean _very_ much.

“Well, it’s 2:30 now. Would 8 o’clock give you enough time to go through the shots?” When Castiel gave him the affirmative, Dean said, “Great! I’ll pick you up at eight! What hotel are you at?”

Castiel was taken a little back by the eagerness Dean’s offer, but he was not about to refuse. “I’m at The Oread, near the university. I’m in room 302.”

“Great! I guess I’ll see you later, then?” Dean’s smile could power an entire city block and Castiel thought he hadn’t seen anything that beautiful in a long time.

“Yes, Dean, I’ll see you tonight.” With that, Castiel turned and went back to his car with a bounce in his step.

The day just kept getting better and better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dean with the car](https://p.dreamwidth.org/dd31a118a7a6/-/i270.photobucket.com/albums/jj107/talulababy_album/SPN/12.jpg)


	6. Chapter 5 The Pickup Artist

Dean hadn’t been this excited, or this nervous, in a very long time, but he  was trying very hard to not get his hopes up. It had been a long while since he even wanted to entertain the _thought_ of going on a date, let alone actually doing it. All the people he’s been with in the last few years were hookups. Either women he’d picked up at the Roadhouse, or the few times he’d tried his hand at being a Dom with subs he knew from Purgatory (without actually stepping foot in the club). But he went into those knowing he’d never see the person again.It had been just blowing off steam, for both of them.

But this…he found himself actually hoping that it would go somewhere. Dean knew the article was still pending, and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. As much as he didn’t want it in the first place, he figured he actually needed it. In a roundabout way. Good publicity meant exposure. Exposure meant an increase in sales. An increase in sales meant more money for Dean to help Sam through school. And with law school starting in almost five months, well…there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his brother, really. So, if pimping himself out to some art rag would help him put Sam through school, bring it on.

Even with all that, he was incredibly attracted to the photographer. Dean had been intrigued the second the man stepped out of that ludicrous hybrid Matchbox car. Castiel was a walking contradiction. He drove a hybrid—albeit a rental, but still—but he liked burgers. He was quiet and formal in his speech, yet he was an artist with so much creativity and…passion, for lack of a better word. Dean hardly knew anything about Castiel Novak as a person, but this he knew. The evidence was plain in the man’s work.

Yes, they were erotic in nature. Dean hadn’t been able to stop staring at the last picture in the slideshow while they ate lunch. He had never seen anything so beautiful and so masculine at the same time. It really was throwing him for a loop. He’d always thought, because it was what he was taught, that to be a sub was to be inferior, weak. That it was a total complete surrender of power. He still didn’t really know why he subbed, although he had some ideas. Ideas he wasn’t going to touch with a ten-foot pole. Ever.

But the photos on Cas’ tablet were just the opposite. Dean saw submissives, but he saw raw power and strength. It was almost like watching a horse race at the beginning, with the thoroughbreds chomping at the bit to get released from the gate. They were forced to hold still, when all they wanted was to be released, to please their master in the only way they could. He could see the barely restrained patience and desire on the models’ faces. Sure, there was sexual desire. But there was also the desire to please. Dean could relate to that. The women in the pictures were like that, too. There was one who looked like a dancer. She was very pretty and dressed as a [ballerina](http://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1396524922i/9147074._SY540_.jpg). She was en pointe on one foot with the other extended out behind her and curved up toward her head, and her arms up and over her head. It looked as if she had been caught mid-turn. The best part was the baby pink rope holding her in that position. There were ropes around her arms and the extended leg holding them up, and there was a harness over her leotard suspending her so that she _had_ to be en pointe. The delicate pink rope and the dainty figure of a ballerina was contrasted with the control of the ropes and the suspension, and the strength and skill of a dancer in her element. Dean could see the lines of her muscles, taught in anticipation of flight.

He also thought that he might like to feel like that.

Dean spent the next few hours finishing up the ten scales he had set for himself to do. The work took up a fair amount of concentration, so he was able to focus on the metal and not let his thoughts stray. This was one reason that he liked metal sculpture. He could completely disconnect himself from the outside world. Once he had finished them and cleaned up the mess, he made his way up to his apartment where he spent the next half hour tidying up.

A glance at the clock told him he had enough time to make a light dinner and shower before he had to leave to pick up Cas. A small thrill went through him at the thought. While Dean heated up some leftovers, he marveled at the near giddiness that was starting to build within him. He honestly wanted to get to know the man more. The fact that he was hot as hell didn’t hurt anything, either. As he sat and ate, he perused the picture gallery again, from memory. There was no doubt that the images were provocative. Dean’s imagination ran wild, until he finally gave in and opened his laptop. He typed ‘rope bondage’ into the search bar, then tabbed over to images. Some of the images intrigued him, made him want to try them, and some images downright scared the crap out of him. A few made him say to himself _Oh, heeellllll no!_ So he tabbed back over to the web and started clicking on links, reading for the next half-hour. He’d been restrained before, but it was never the center of the activity, and usually with some sort of cuffs, not rope. He wanted to see if he could understand the appeal of rope as a central activity. All it served to do was pique his curiosity even more, and he resolved to talk more with Castiel about it. He just had to figure out how to broach the subject.

Dean had a sneaking suspicion—hope—that Cas was a Dom, but he wasn’t letting himself go there yet. Just because he liked to tie people up to take pictures of them, didn’t  mean he was a part of the lifestyle. Dean had to tread carefully, mostly because they  still had a professional relationship, and he couldn’t compromise the article. But he also had to be careful because he really didn’t know the man. He seemed nice and, you know, not crazy.

But so had Alastair. He’d even had a recommendation from a (former) friend for Alastair, and look how that turned out.

Dean sighed, at turns hopeful for the future and bitter about the past, and turned off his laptop. It was time to go take a shower and get ready.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

On the way to the Oread, the nerves started to set in again. His left leg was jittery and he pounded out the beat to “Back in Black” on his steering wheel. As he pulled into the parking structure, he started to take measured breaths; four-count in, four-count out. He hasn’t had to pull that one out in awhile. He marveled at the fact that he was trying to calm his nerves from excitement, instead of fear or panic. He’d come a long way in the last two years.

He took the stairs up to the third floor, but forced himself to take each step, not skipping any. He counted them on his way, to relax his mind. By the time he stepped onto the third floor, his heart rate and breathing had returned to normal. He did not hesitate as he knocked on the door.

“Hold on!” he heard through the door, followed by rushed steps coming closer.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat when the door opened. The man on the other side was a vision of lust. He was wearing dark jeans and an open button-down shirt. Dean could not stop his eyes from traveling down the length of Castiel’s body and back up. He was also bare-foot, which Dean found sexy as hell. His hair was wet and disheveled, like he hadn’t had a chance to put a comb to it yet.

“Hello, Dean. Forgive me,” he said, as he stepped aside to allow Dean to enter. “Please, come in. I was going through the shots from this morning and I lost track of time. I just barely got out of the shower.”

Oh, great. Now he was picturing Cas in the shower. He’d just calmed his nerves and BAM! Nekkid thoughts. Dammit.

Dean shook his head a little as he wandered past Cas into the room. There were no clothes strewn everywhere or empty food containers or dirty room service dishes waiting to be picked up. There were, however, several cameras, lenses, batteries, and various accessories laid out neatly on the bed, as if awaiting cataloguing.

“I apologize, I had wanted to be ready to go by now. I got carried away.”

Dean looked over to see that Cas was in the process of buttoning up his shirt. Shame. The quick peek that Dean got was enough to start a good blood flow southward, and he had to stifle a little whine when the shirt was completely closed up and tucked in. Cas absent-mindedly searched around for his shoes and, having found them, sat down on the bed to put his socks and shoes on.

“So, did you get any good shots?” Dean asked, with what he hoped was indifference. He didn’t want to seem like an eager young artist.

“Quite a few, actually, which was the reason I lost track of time. I got busy sorting them into categories of useless images, ones that need editing, and ones that are perfect the way they are. There are a lot of those. The camera loves you.” Cas looked up at Dean and winked. He got up from the bed and went over to the small desk area, grabbing his satchel and loading his tablet into it. “In fact, I was hoping to take my tablet tonight so I can show you the best pictures. Is that acceptable?

“Hey, yeah! I don’t suppose there’s any chance that I can choose which pictures get used, is there?” One could  only hope.

“Sorry, but I don’t even have that much control,” Cas apologized. “I can tell you that, if you see an image you really don’t like tonight, I will delete it so the editors never even get it. Sound good? Great. Ready?” Cas asked without waiting for an answer, walking over to the door.

“Yep!” Dean followed Cas out of the hotel room and waited for him to make sure the door was closed, before walking toward the elevator. “So, Cas. Tell me about yourself. I know you got a package on me from the editor, know your subject and all that. But I know next to nothing about you. Except Japan and bondage,” Dean laughed.

Cas laughed right along with him. “Well, I grew up in Chicago,” he started. “All of my family is still there, such as it is,” he muttered. “I went to Northwestern. Like I told you I originally studied pre-med but switched my senior year after Japan. I had to do one more semester to make up the major requirements, but it was worth it,” he said, smiling fondly. “You’ve seen what my work is like. I used similar pictures as my senior project and got noticed by an agent that represents artists. He was a dick, so now my brother, Gabriel, is my agent. He’s a dick, too, but at least I can tell him that to his face and not have to worry about my career going up in smoke by the time I get up in the morning. He’s also the one that helped set me up with the freelance work.” Castiel rubbed his palms on his jeans and changed the subject.

“So, what about you?” he asked. “I know you switched from engineering to AT and P, and that you are also a mechanic and a bartender. The question is why? I can get behind working a so-called day job to keep the lights on, but why two?”

“Law school is expensive as shit, that’s why.” As they got into the Impala, Dean caught the confused look on Castiel’s face. “Stanford has this whole free-ride for all undergrads program, but not for law school. We only had to come up with all the fees and books and living expenses for the first four years, but boy am I glad I kept putting money away anyway! I kept Sam from having to get a job before, and I won’t have him working through law school, either,” Dean said resolutely. “My brother’s a genius, but he needs to keep his grades up and having a job would make it harder. We weren’t sure if he’d get a scholarship for law school, so I’ve been saving the extra for tuition, once I paid off my loans. ‘Sides, I get bored easily,” Dean said, adding a wink for Castiel’s benefit. Dean couldn’t help it, he always felt light-hearted whenever he talked about his brother. He couldn’t be more proud of his giant of a brother and was getting excited about spending the entire summer with him.

“So you two are close?”

“Yeah. It was just him and me growing up, so…” Dean rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the possible direction of the conversation. “I…I pretty much raised him, and he’s the only blood I’ve got. Bobby and Ellen and Jo are family, too. They took us in when we needed it most. But everyone else is dead.”

“Oh, I apologize if I brought up a painful memory,” he blurted out, sounding remorseful. “I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. I mean, yeah, ‘s not somethin’ I like to talk about, but if it hadn’t happened, Sammy and I wouldn’t be where we are,” Dean deflected. “I mean, Sammy’s in the top of his class. I’d say he turned out pretty good. He works hard for it. C’mon, let’s go in and get a drink.” Dean put the car in park, turned it off, and got out. Castiel followed him, bringing his satchel.

Walking into the bar at 8 p.m. on a Saturday night was a lot different than at the lunch hour. The music was loud, but not obnoxious. Most of the tables and booths were filled, but the crowd seemed friendly enough tonight. These were Dean’s people, and this place was like home.

“Hey, Ash! How’s it hangin’?” Dean called to a thin man with a mullet at the bar. Ash had dropped out of MIT just before graduation. He found he just wasn’t interested in a conventional degree or job, so he came back home and started working for Ellen. He never seemed happier.

“Dude! Nice to see ya, man! What brings you in on your day off? Twice?” Ash popped the tops off two beers and handed them over.

“Ash, this is Cas. He’s the photographer for that article. Cas, this is my friend Ash. You need anything computer related, you go to Ash. Between him and Charlie, I think they’re gonna take over the world,” Dean laughed as he picked up the beers. “You want something to eat? Seems like you were too focused to get yourself food earlier.”

“Yes, I would love a bacon cheeseburger. I didn’t realize how hungry I really am.”

“Ash, you heard the man. Bacon cheeseburger. We’ll be at the corner booth. Thanks, man!” Dean tipped his bottle toward Ash, who nodded in return. “C’mon, let’s go sit down. You can show me the rest of the pictures you took.” He led the way over to the corner booth and sat down so he was facing the room. Cas settled into the seat across from him and pulled out his tablet.

“Please keep in mind, none of these have been edited. But I believe we’ve got some great images that the magazine will love.” As he started tapping away on the tablet, opening the correct file, Dean noticed a [thin black cord](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0knPnmJwnRY/TyxqnRmEiuI/AAAAAAACCEQ/EriYGfF-hss/s320/betony+vernon+tie+me+up+ring+g-rated.jpg) woven around both his hands, starting with the middle finger and progressing down below the sleeves of his shirt. Dean filed that away to ask about later, as Cas handed him the tablet.

Dean hadn’t been sure what he expected, but it wasn’t what he saw. These weren’t your typical point-and-shoot pictures, and they were not the pictures he saw at lunch, either. They evoked emotion. Dean had the feeling that he was seeing his art through Castiel’s eyes, that this was how Cas saw it. It was beautiful. Powerful. There was that word again. Dean’s eye caught on a picture of himself at the BurnTable. He had his welder’s mask on, so you couldn’t see his face, but the glow of the plasma torch lit up his silhouette. It was if the radiance was coming from within him. That. Right there. _That’s_ what he felt like when he worked in his shop, cutting and shaping metal, making it bend to his will. He told Cas as much.

“Yes, this is one of my favorites,” Cas agreed, head slightly tilted in contemplation. “I think it will make an excellent cover piece.”

Dean took a moment to collect himself. It surprised him, how much the picture affected him. He’d never really thought about his art as anything more than tinkering. If someone should want to pay him for one of his tinkers, so much the better. He never realized, or acknowledged, how deep in his soul he needed his art. And yes, now he could see that it _is_ art, not just tinkering. He had allowed people to call him an artist because a sculptor was an artist by definition. He just never felt like an artist.

Until now.

He cleared his throat in an effort to not embarrass himself. “Do you think you got all the shots you need? Or do you need me tomorrow?” A swig of beer and a glance around the bar kept his eyes from Cas. He was trying to hide his desire to continue seeing the man.

“Yes, I believe we got everything I need. I will be stopping at Wonderscope on Monday, before I catch my flight. It will be good to have a photo of one of your pieces in installation.”

“Sure, yeah, good idea.” He tried to hide his disappointment. He wasn’t so sure he succeeded. “When is your flight?”

Castiel tilted his head. Dean was starting to put together that the expression meant the photographer was deep in thought. About what, he had no clue.

“My flight to Chicago leaves at 6 p.m. Monday evening. I plan on leaving Lawrence around noon.” Cas continued to stare straight at Dean, as if he was trying to figure out his deepest, darkest secrets. It was a little unnerving.

He was saved by Ellen delivering Cas’ food, along with a plate of fries for Dean.

“Hey, thanks Ellen!” Dean said with a huge smile. Free food had a tendency to do that. Especially Ellen’s.

“You’re welcome, son. Who’s this?” she said, turning to look at Castiel and giving him her patented ‘Don’t fuck with me or mine’ look. Dean chuckled to himself when he saw Cas gulp under Ellen’s scrutiny.

“Oh, right. Ellen, this is Castiel Novak. He’s the photographer from the magazine. Cas, this is Ellen. Bar owner, boss, surrogate mother, all around badass.” Dean’s admiration and affection for the woman was palpable.

“Language, kid. But thanks. Well, Castiel, it’s very nice to meet you. I hope Dean has been behaving himself.”

There it was. His in. It was now or never.

“Oh, don’t worry Ellen.” He turned to look Cas directly in the eye as he finished. “I’ve been a very good boy.” His eyes twinkled and the corner of his mouth twitched as he waited for Cas’ reaction.

He was not disappointed.

Castiel’s eyes went wide and he let out a barely audible gasp before he could stop it. He quickly schooled his features, however, and turned to Ellen. “It’s very nice to meet you, Ellen. Dean has said some wonderful things about you. And yes, he’s been very well-behaved.” Now he was looking directly at Dean, just as Dean had done a minute before. “I think he deserves a reward.”

Dean’s insides were doing back flips at the confirmation. He could relax in the knowledge that yes, Cas liked men—otherwise he wouldn’t be looking like he wanted to eat Dean alive in that moment—and he was in the lifestyle. There were still a lot of things that could derail this before it started, but that first major hurdle was done with.

“What kind of desserts do you carry, Ellen?” Cas turned to look at Ellen, waiting for her answer.

“Pie. We got pie. Specifically today, apple. With or without ice cream. One or two slices?”

“One big one please, with two forks. Thank you, Ellen.” The woman nodded at Cas  and walked back toward the kitchen.

Dean was speechless. He just stared at Cas with his mouth slightly open. He was really glad they were sitting, because he was already half-hard just with the knowledge that Cas was a Dom.

“Close your mouth, Dean.” Cas’ voice had lowered a little, and his words, while quiet and polite, were a definite order.

“Yes, Sir.” Dean said immediately, then closed his mouth. As soon as he realized what he’d said he closed his eyes and muttered, “Fuck.” He hadn’t meant to give himself away like that. He had wanted to keep control of it just a little longer.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He did what he did best.

He deflected.

“So, what’s with the ropes on your hands?” He asked and quickly shoved a fry into his mouth to keep from saying anything else embarrassing.

Cas looked taken aback a little at the sudden change, but he recovered quickly. “Kinbaku. Literally, it means ‘tight binding.’ Generally, I’m the bakushi, the rope master, but I since started out as a rope bottom, the ropes are a comfort. Sometimes, when I’m in a new social situation, I wear a little bit of rope. It calms me.” As he was talking, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled them up, revealing the pattern that went halfway up his forearms. “It’s ironic how freeing being tied up can be. Which is actually one subject I wished to bring up with you tonight. After seeing how well you photograph, I was wondering if you would be willing to model for me.” He folded his hands together on the table in front of him, calmly waiting for Dean’s reaction.

Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the tanned, muscular forearms, adorned in rope. It took a minute for his brain to catch up with Cas’ words. “Wait…what? You…you want to tie me up?”

“Among other things, yes,” Castiel said with a hungry glint in his eye. “Originally, I had intended to ask you to model for me, nothing else. However, in light of tonight’s conversation, I would like to amend that.”

“In what way?” Dean’s excitement was evident; his knee wouldn’t stop bouncing, his hands were laid flat on the table, and his nostrils were flaring slightly from trying to control his breathing.

Castiel took his time in replying, seeming content to stare. “Dean, I’m going to be completely candid…” He stopped as Ellen approached with a large slice of pie and two forks.

“Enjoy your pie, boys,” she said with a smirk, clearing away the remnants of dinner.

“Th-thanks Ellen,” Dean stammered, his control slowly slipping.

Castiel calmly took the plate and both of the forks. Setting one aside, out of reach, he took the other and scooped up a bite. He paused to give the bite a thoughtful look. He turned his eyes to Dean’s, then put the fork in his own mouth. His eyes fluttered closed and he moaned lowly around the fork. A small whine escaped Dean’s throat and he squirmed in his seat. That moan went right to his dick. And, hey! That’s his pie! He didn’t even realize he was pouting until Cas pointed it out.

“Don’t pout, Dean. Be a good boy and you’ll get your treat.” Dean’s eyes closed as he imagined Cas feeding him the pie. Yeah, he could be a good boy. He could be _very_ good. Patience might be an issue, however.

“As I was saying,” Cas continued, scooping up another bite. “I believe in completely honest, open communication. There is no trust without honesty. As such, I’m going to be blunt. Am I correct in thinking that you are a sexual submissive?”

He waited for Dean to nod the affirmative and said, “Use your words, Dean.”

“Y-yes, I’m a sub.” His voice trembled as he forced the words out. The anticipation was killing him.

“Good boy.” Cas’ smile was small, but it was there, and he moved the fork over to Dean’s mouth, waiting for him to open. After Dean took the bite, Cas loaded the fork with another.

“Am I also correct in thinking that you are attracted to men?” He held the fork in the air, waiting for Dean’s answer.

Dean saw the pattern right away. Answer the question, with words, and get a bite of Ellen’s amazing pie. He could do this. “Yes. Well, both, actually. I’m bi.” He grinned as the fork made its way to his mouth and he happily ate the bite of pie, savoring the warm apple and cinnamon on his tongue.

“Very good. Have you ever been restrained? And was it during a sexual encounter?” Another bite of pie made it onto the fork.

“Yes, to both. But not to the level in your pictures. I’ve been tied to a bed or restrained with cuffs, but not a whole lot of rope. And I’ve never been suspended.”

Damn, that pie tasted awesome! For some reason, it seemed to taste better than usual. Must be his imagination.

“Thank you for your honesty, Dean. I greatly appreciate it.”

Another bite of pie.

“I assume you’ve figured out that I’m a sexual Dominant,” Castiel began slowly, confidently. “I am also attracted to men, though not women. I use both men and women in my photography. I have always had an appreciation for the human form and I prefer to showcase the limits to which it can be pushed with Kinbaku. I do not have a sexual relationship with any of my models, in case you were wondering. It’s not a rule, as such. It has just never happened.” He folded his hands on the table in front of him, considering his next words. “I do not get attracted to very many people, yet I am very attracted to you, Dean. I wish to pursue a relationship with you, if you are willing. I know we live in different cities, but I think it’s worth seeing if there’s anything there. If there is a connection, if we can establish the level of trust required, then I would like to photograph you.”

“So, you’ve never had sex with someone you tied up?” Dean thought back to the conversation at lunch, about the weird questions and assumptions people had about him and his work. A million different thoughts were racing through Dean’s head like a sea of bicycles during the Tour de France.

A very small smirk graced Castiel’s lips. “I didn’t say that. I have never had sex with someone that I’ve paid as a model for my work. That is more about the beauty and the power of the human body, and the art of the bondage itself. It doesn’t matter to me what the bottom’s motivations for being tied up are, as long as it’s healthy.”

“Okay. But, hold on,” he started, holding up a hand, “you talked about having me as a model before you even thought about the possibility of a relationship. You said if we establish trust _then_ you would photograph me. Since you don’t have a relationship with your models, why would we do it the other way around?” Not that he’s saying yes. But he’s not saying no, either.

“I go to great pains to develop a trusting relationship with anyone that will model for me,” Cas said, in all seriousness. “I will not tie anyone without knowing if they can handle it. You’ve seen the positions I put them in, I need to know they can handle it mentally and physically. I need to trust that they will tell me if it’s too much, and they need to trust me to stop when they tell me to, just like in a regular Dom/sub relationship. Kinbaku can be very extreme. Trust is essential.” The tension at the words seemed to leech out of Cas. Dean had the impression that Cas held those concepts in the utmost of importance. “I would like to have that trust with you, but for more than just as a model. I would like the opportunity to earn your trust in a more…complete manner.” Dean couldn’t understand how Cas could be all confident with his Dom voice and Dom eyebrow and smitey look one minute, then reduce to a high school freshman asking out his first crush the next. It was in no way totally adorable.

With that, he handed the spare fork over to Dean and put the remainder of the pie right in between them.

“Think about it, please. I’m going to go use the restroom.” Castiel got up and walked away, leaving Dean with the rest of the pie and his thoughts.

He couldn’t  help but feel excited. It’s been a long time since he’s had a Dom, and he’s never had one that blunt about honesty and trust. Alastair had been blunt, but not honest and certainly not trustworthy. He trusted Benny, but he’d been a man of very few words and Dean knew next to nothing of him outside the playroom. He’d had several Doms in between Benny and Alastair, but they were one-night-stands.

It was not even computing, the idea of total complete trust.

He didn’t know what that looked like.

He trusted Sammy more than anyone, but even there…the Prank War of 2009 taught him to sleep with one eye open around his little brother.

The more he thought about it, the more he really wanted this. He just didn’t know what the next step was. Did he watch the photo shoot next weekend in Chicago? Did spend the night with Cas tonight? If it was going to be more than a one-night-stand, which he sincerely hoped it would be, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to sleep with him the first day he met him.

Dean slammed his head down on the table in frustration.

Since when did Dean Winchester wait to have sex with someone? Usually, if he wanted the person, he went for it. The difference this time, he realized, was that he wanted more than one night.

So, he would be patient. A wicked smile appeared on Dean’s face.

He would be a good boy.


	7. Chapter 6 Kindred Spirits

Never had a walk to the restroom across a crowded bar been so difficult. It took everything Castiel had to not just run to the restroom, lock the door, and take care of the raging erection in his pants. Instead, he took casual, measured steps, using meditative breathing to try to remain calm. When he got to the restroom and made sure he was alone, he pressed the heel of his hand to his cock, trying to relieve the pressure.

The conversation could not have been going better. Dean liked men. Dean was a  _ sub _ . The pie was a perfect opportunity and had played better than he could have hoped for. Feeding his sub was always something that resonated with Castiel, but feeding Dean while talking about trust and honesty? It had been so arousing that he had to leave the table, lest he come in his pants.

He walked over to the sink and splashed his face with water. It was undeniable now. He  _ wanted _ . He wanted Dean. This had never happened before. He had known Balthazar for two months before they had sex. After that, he’d found out he had to have some sort of connection with someone before he would become sexually attracted to them. In the nine years since Baz, he’d had four affairs and one of them had lasted more than six months. They either didn’t like his work or liked it too much. One person felt he was too odd. 

He’d never been sexually aroused by someone in less than twelve hours. He found he couldn’t let this go. Not only that, but he didn’t want it to be a one-time thing. He never did, really, but with Dean he felt it more intensely. He wanted to know Dean in every way possible.

So. What should he do next?

Well, he was definitely going to work very hard to build the trust needed for a suspension. If Dean would be willing to come to Chicago next week and watch the photo shoot with Gilda, he could see the type of suspension involved in a shoot. Maybe Dean would be willing to go to The Velvet Underground and watch Victor and Pam. If Castiel  remembered correctly, they were performing next Saturday evening. Victor usually gave him notice of their performances in case he was free to document. He loved documenting the pair because the sheer love between the two was evident in every bight, every knot, every tender touch and gasp of pain. 

With his usual models, he documented single poses, highlighting  the barely contained power of the body. With Victor and Pam, it was the process. Even if they never had intercourse, which was about half their performances, they made love through the rope. It was an extension of Victor, wrapping around Pam in the most intimate ways and holding her tight. It was a complete surrender and it was beautiful.

Cas had always been a little envious of the couple. He wanted what they had, but for him,  it was difficult to find a potential life partner. Most people used sex as a way to get closer, to break the ice on more intimate interactions. Cas had to become intimate emotionally first, which was why he couldn’t completely understand his sudden overwhelming want. 

He was not, however, going to question it too deeply. It felt too right to brush it off.

The time for dawdling was over. A check in the mirror showed that Cas was presentable…mostly. His shirt was untucked and a little disheveled, so he smoothed his hands down the front. Sighing at the lost cause, he turned around and left the restroom.

As he approached the table, Cas saw that Dean had his head down on the table. A small spark of concern shot through his chest.

“Dean? Are you alright?” Castiel slipped into the booth opposite Dean. 

Dean groaned and raised his head.“Yeah, Cas, I’m great.” He sighed and took a deep breath. “Complete honesty, right? If we’re going to do this, I mean.”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel affirmed patiently, “complete honesty. I do not need you to tell me your entire life story, but if it concerns us and our potential relationship then yes, complete honesty. Do you have something you wish to tell me?” Castiel may have brought out the Dom voice just a little bit. On purpose. Sue him.

“Yeah. I was just thinking about what you said about honesty and trust.” He rubbed a hand across his face and huffed, “ Man, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Just so you know, the honesty and trust thing is completely new for me. I…I have a hard time trusting people. Anyway, I was thinking that I’ve never had that before, but that I kinda wanna have it. Then I thought that I might want it for more than just one night. Which led to me thinking that we probably shouldn’t have sex tonight. Which led to my head hitting the table, ‘cause that is so not my M.O.” His head followed suit, as if to illustrate the point.

“I appreciate your candor, Dean. While most people trust freely and take it away only after it has been violated, for some people it must be earned first. I can see that you are one of those people, and I will endeavor to earn it completely. I do agree with you, however, that intercourse should probably not happen tonight. If we are to move forward with this, and I’m getting the impression that you are in favor of it, there is much to discuss.”

Dean’s head popped up a little bit. “Such as?” One eyebrow was slightly arched in curiosity.

“Such as our histories, experiences, likes and dislikes, possible triggers—why are you staring at me like that?” 

Dean’s mouth was hanging open, an incredulous look on his face.

“Um…I’ve never had that discussion with anyone before. I mean, I’d heard that some people do it, but no one’s ever cared enough to figure that stuff out beforehand. Are ya’ gonna have us sign contracts, too?” Dean huffed a small laugh, but the smile died on his face when he looked at Castiel.

Castiel felt as incredulous as Dean had looked, and it took him a moment to find his voice again. “Dean, I take my role as Dom very seriously. Both our safety depends on it. It saddens me that you have apparently not had a responsible Dom before. This is one of the things that we will have to discuss. I propose we spend the rest of the evening just getting to know each other further. If all goes well, I would like to meet you at your place tomorrow to go over more…intimate details. Does that sound good to you?” Castiel drained his beer while he waited for Dean to find his voice.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect. Wow. You really are something else, Cas.” Dean shook his head mildly and a small smile graced his lips. Lips that Castiel wanted very much to be kissing. 

_ Focus! _

“Great! Why don’t you go get us a few more beers then, and we’ll continue the conversation.”

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Dean walked up to the bar with a huge grin on his face. He couldn’t help it, even if he tried. He was a little nervous at the full disclosure idea; he wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to share with Cas about his past. But he sure as hell was willing to try. 

He had no idea how far this was going to go, or even if a real relationship would form out of it. Hell, Dean wasn’t even sure if he was ready for a relationship. It had been four years since Lisa, but it had still messed him up pretty badly. Then, with everything that happened in the two years after that…well, he’d been put off emotional intimacy in a pretty big way. 

He knew what Sammy would say. Sammy would say that he can’t hide away behind one-night-stands and weekend romps his whole life. At some point he’s going to have to make an attempt at a meaningful connection with someone. Dean smiled to himself; why not attempt with a fucking hot photographer that liked to get kinky?

“Hey there, tiger, what’s got you so happy?” Ash asked as Dean stepped up to the bar. Dean waved the empty bottles and Ash quickly replaced them with fresh ones.

“Nothin’, dude. Just havin’ a good night's all.” Dean tried to wave him off, but he’s known Ash for the better part of his life. Ash knows when he’s trying to bullshit.

“Date going that well, hunh? I see the way you two are makin’ moon eyes at each other, don’t even try to lie to me, pal. It’s a wonder yer still here. I’da figured you two would be somewhere horizontal by now.” Ash was wiping down the bar top as he spoke, to appear busy if Ellen happened by.

“Normally, I’d agree with you. But this one’s different, Ash. I don’t know how to explain it, but there may be something there. We’ll see. Talk to you later, bud.” Dean smiled and winked at Ash as he turned and walked away.

Castiel really was different. Okay, yes, he was a little odd. But that’s not what Dean was thinking. The whole situation was different. The very fact that Dean was contemplating  _ not _ having sex with the man in the next hour but still wanting to see him in the future was very telling. This was completely uncharted territory for Dean. Even with Lisa he’d sealed the deal as soon as she let him. But with Cas…with Cas he actually  _ wanted _ to wait. Wanted it to be that much more special. 

_ Oh, God, kill me now, before I actually grow lady bits! _ Dean was annoyed with himself for going all emotional, but mildly impressed that he kept it to himself.

“Penny for your thoughts.” 

Or he thought he’d kept it to himself. He smirked a little as he handed Cas his beer, before sliding into the booth opposite the photographer.

“Nothing, just workin’ some stuff out in my head. You’re making me think about  _ feelings _ , man! Dean Winchester does not do feelings. Ask anyone,” he said with a sigh.

“Am I making you talk in the third person, as well?” Castiel retorted, raising one eyebrow.

“Nah, that’s my own special brand of idiot.” Dean started to fidget with the label on his beer.

“I see,” Castiel said, taking a sip of his own drink. “Well, we can’t have you thinking about feelings, now, can we? I sense spontaneous human combustion just around the corner if we don’t change the subject. So…what are your thoughts? Star Trek or Star Wars?”

The rest of the evening passed with the two men talking animatedly about their various likes and dislikes. Dean was very much into Star Trek—who wouldn’t love Will Riker with that beard?—while Castiel was more about the Zen nature of the Jedi Masters. They both agreed that Buffy kicked ass and that, while the movies were pretty damned awesome, the Lord of the Rings trilogy was far better in print. Dean learned that Castiel mostly used digital devices for his work, but did occasionally use old fashioned film. Castiel learned that family was everything to Dean, and most of his was taken away too quickly. 

To his own surprise, Dean told Cas about the fire that had claimed his mom when Dean had been just four years old and how he had lost his childhood with the increasing pressure and responsibilities his father had shoved him. He told Cas how Sam and he had come to live with Bobby Singer, though Dean kept to himself about his father’s actual status. He usually told people the man was dead, and Castiel was  no exception. 

In reality, Dean didn’t know. 

The last time he saw his father was the first day of high school, when he dropped the boys off at Bobby’s after school. The last he heard anything at all was when he found the Impala in front of the house on his seventeenth birthday. He didn’t know for sure if the old man was dead, but he may as well have been. And since that bit of information had no bearing on his potential relationship with Cas, he kept it to himself. 

He also kept to himself his theory of why his father left. He didn’t share that with anyone.

Dean learned that, besides English, Castiel spoke French, Spanish, and Japanese. The Spanish because he’d been taking it since he was young, the French was because Balthazar was French and wanted to be able to speak with someone in his native tongue, and the Japanese was because he had immersed himself entirely in the culture, and that included the language. Castiel learned that Dean could build a working machine out of almost anything. He was kind of like MacGyver, in that respect. They both learned that Cas was three years older than Dean. 

Before they knew it, it was last call and nearly 2 a.m. Dean settled the tab and they made their way to the Impala. Dean had stopped drinking alcohol and switched to water somewhere around midnight, so he knew he was okay to drive. Castiel, on the other hand, was a little bit tipsy. He was walking and talking slowly and carefully, while not actually slurring his words or his steps. He also got very handsy on the walk to the car. He kept leaning into Dean, putting a hand on his arm, the small of his back, anywhere to get a small measure of contact. It was stoking the fires of desire in Dean and he clenched his jaw as he unlocked the passenger door for Castiel to get in. His self-control was being seriously tested.

The drive back to Cas’ hotel was silent, but the air was thick with want. Dean felt he could cut it with a knife. He consciously kept both hands on the steering wheel and did his best to ignore Castiel’s fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of his neck. The ten minute drive was absolute agony for the younger man. He wanted nothing more than to lean in to the warm touch and lose himself. If not for the fact that he was driving his baby, he may have given in. As it was, when he pulled into a parking space in the garage attached to the hotel, he was holding on by a very thin thread.

As soon as the car was off, Castiel scooted closer to Dean. He didn’t pounce the man, but it was an overt display of his intentions. Dean turned his body so he was facing Cas, and met his fiery gaze. They sat like that for a moment or two, eyes locked, breath shallow. Dean licked his bottom lip. The motion caught Castiel’s eyes, which flicked down to watch.

Suddenly, Castiel’s lips were on Dean’s and it was nirvana. Hands cupped Dean’s face gently as he surrendered himself to the kiss. It was the perfect mash of tongue and teeth and Dean wanted it to never stop. Eventually, though, breathing became necessary. He didn’t move far, pressing his forehead against Castiel’s, eyes closed and struggling to calm himself.

“Cas, we can’t…not here…” Dean could barely get the words out, as much from distraction as from surprise that those words were actually coming out of his mouth.

“My room has a very nice, very big bed. With lots of pillows.” This statement was punctuated with little nips up Dean’s jaw line, ending in his earlobe being sucked into Cas’ mouth and nibbled on.

“ _ Fuck, Cas _ !” Dean turned his head toward Castiel’s and drew him into a deep kiss that left them both panting. “Really, though,” he said, breaking off after a few minutes, “we said we wouldn’t. And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…we agreed, no sex tonight. Are you going back on that? Do you want this to be a one-time thing?” Concern laced Dean’s voice, as much as he hated that it was there.

That concern, though, brought Castiel back to reality. “Damn. No, you’re absolutely right, Dean. I apologize. I’ve made things awkward. I don’t usually lose control like this.” 

Despite his words, Castiel continued rubbing the palm of his hand along Dean’s erection, a satisfied moan escaping at the feeling of the younger man’s very hard state of being. “But you, Mr. Winchester, are very  _ hard _ to resist.” 

As the words came out, the pressure Cas’ hand was exerting on Dean’s erection increased, making Dean throw his head back and moan, low and dirty.“Cas, if you don’t stop I’m gonna come in my pants like a teenager.” 

Dean made no move to stop him, however. He just closed his eyes and allowed his hips to start a shallow thrust into the older man’s hand. “ _ Christ! _ ” He bit out, when that hand squeezed and released, squeezed and released, in time with his hip thrusts.

Castiel nibbled up Dean’s jaw and licked over the shell of his ear before whispering “God, you’re beautiful like this. I can’t wait until I have you splayed out on my bed, naked and begging to come. Would you like to come, Dean?”

“Yes! Please, Cas,  _ please _ , can I come?” Dean’s breathing was erratic with moans interspersed, and his hips had quickened their pace.

Everything happened all at once. As Castiel’s hand squeezed Dean’s cock impossibly tighter, he commanded—barely above a whisper—“Come for me, Dean, come!” Then he bit down, hard enough to bruise but not break the skin, on the spot just below and behind Dean’s ear. That was enough to break the dam.

“Oh, God,  _ fuck! _ ” Dean’s pelvis started thrusting hard against Castiel’s hand as his orgasm ripped through him. The movements started to fade as Castiel worked Dean through the aftershocks, while he kissed his neck and jawline with tiny chaste pecks. 

“Damn, Cas…that was…oh my God…fuck,” Dean rambled on, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

When thinking was no longer a huge challenge for Dean, he turned to Castiel and kissed him deeply. His hands wandered, touching all parts of Castiel within reach. His hand settled in Castiel’s lap and stalled, feeling a rather large damp spot. 

Dean broke off the kiss and pulled back, looking down. “You…did you really just come in your pants just from getting me off?” He looked Castiel in the eyes, wanting to get his honest reaction.

“Yes, Dean. You seem to have…an effect on me. This is quite unexpected.” The look on his face was more of curiosity than anything.

“It’s fucking hot, is what it is!” Dean exclaimed, kissing him again. “Seriously, though. Are you going to be able to make it to your room by yourself? If I come up with you, I’m not gonna leave. I think we’ve destroyed the no sex agreement all to hell enough, don’t you?”

Castiel heaved a big sigh. “As much as I would love to curl up next to you right now, you are correct. We need to have certain discussions first, if we are to pursue the type of relationship that I think we both want to have. I appreciate your self-control, especially in the face of my serious lack of. I will be able to make it to my room just fine, thank you.” As he spoke, he started to pull away, visibly gathering himself mentally for the trek back to his room. He seemed to do a mental self-check as he pulled back.

“So. You wanna come over for lunch tomorrow? We can have those discussions. Say, one o’clock?” The afterglow had faded and Dean was starting to get nervous. Cas seemed okay, but he didn’t seem afterglowy, and that bothered Dean more than he cared to admit.

“Yes, Dean, one o’clock sounds wonderful.” He leaned over and left a small peck on Dean’s cheek, then opened the car door. “Goodnight, Dean. Thank you for…everything.” And he was gone.

Unable to wrap his mind around what just happened, Dean  spent the drive home with a completely blank mind. Once he was in his apartment, however, stripping to get in the shower, well that’s when his brain started to kick in again. All in all it was a great night. He found out a lot about Cas, they got along very well, he had absolute confirmation that Cas was a Dom, and that he wanted to pursue a relationship. 

That word still bothered Dean, seeing how his last relationship ended. But, on the bright side, Cas couldn’t get pregnant by another man, right? 

Besides, Dean was tired of being alone. Tired of the one-night-stands, tired of sleeping by himself, hell, he was tired of topping. He liked it, sure. But he’d been craving a really good fuck lately. He couldn’t bring himself to do that with a stranger again, so he was really hopeful about this situation with Cas. As for the relationship stuff, he may come across as a love ‘em and leave ‘em type, but deep down he just really wanted someone to come home to, talk about his day with, and wake up with every day.

But the way that Cas closed off after they both came in the car was a little concerning. Did he not enjoy himself? Was he upset that Dean didn’t help him get off? Was it a test? Was Dean supposed to stop him? For the life of him, Dean couldn’t figure out what he did wrong.

After his shower, when he was dry and dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, he lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. 

The more he thought about it, though, the closer he came to a conclusion. If Castiel expected full honesty from Dean, he should have the same courtesy, right? So, Dean would just ask Cas in the morning what he did wrong.

Feeling more relaxed, he drifted off to sleep. 


	8. Chapter 7 How Do You Like Me Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW image

It has been established that Castiel is not a morning person. And while he was not completely smashed last night, he was drunk enough to let his guard down and do stupid things. Stupid things like have a completely mind-blowing orgasm, the likes of which hasn’t occurred in years…if ever. Completely untouched.

There were several things that Castiel was having difficulty wrapping his brain around, not the least of which was consciousness. The first was that he came untouched. That has _never_ happened. The second was that he got hard enough to come in the first place. Sexual arousal was deeply tied to emotions for Castiel, and he’d literally known Dean for sixteen hours when it happened. This entire thing was so far out of the norm for him that he just couldn’t process it. Not to mention the fact that the whole thing was completely unprofessional. He still hadn’t submitted the images to the editor of the magazine yet, so he and Dean technically still had a working relationship.

Well, that was something that could be remedied fairly quickly. Castiel looked over at the clock and groaned when he saw it was 10 a.m. Early enough that he could get done what he wanted to accomplish, but also early enough that he kind of lamented the loss of an extra hour or two of sleep. He would just have to suck it up, because he wanted the professional aspect of the relationship _gone._ He wanted to be free to pursue more enjoyable activities.

After setting the mug in the single-cup coffee maker and pressing start, Castiel hopped in the shower. He took longer than usual because he had no limit on hot water, but it also made the slight ache in his muscles dissipate. After his shower and completing the rest of his morning ablutions, he ordered a light breakfast from room service. While he waited, he dressed in worn jeans that hugged his hips but hung loosely elsewhere, and a Ramones t-shirt.

Castiel never spent an inordinate amount of time editing the photos for his freelance work. Usually what he took was good enough. Most of the time he just cropped a certain way, adjusted the saturation, or went for black and white in some pictures. With Dean’s images, he wanted to do better. Since he was very skilled with his editing program, it still did not take him more than an hour. He’d already started the process the previous day and had separated out the images he wanted to use. All in all, he ended up with around eighty images to send to the editor. He uploaded the images to the secure cloud file the editor had given him access to, and sent an email to him letting him know that the job was almost complete, and to let Castiel know if there were any missing shots. He would get some shots of the installation at Wonderland on his way to the airport tomorrow, and send those as soon as he could.

Next on the to-do list this morning was to text Gabriel and let him know. He shouldn’t be surprised at his brother’s response, but he was.

_From Gabriel_  
_11:40am_  
_Done already? Sooooo does that mean u hit that?;)_

_From Me_  
_11:43am_  
_Don’t be immature, Gabriel_

_From Me_  
_11:43am_  
_Wait. I take that back. This is how you normally act. Don’t be you, Gabriel._

_From Gabriel_  
11:44am  
_I can't tell if that’s a yes or no_

_From Me_  
_11:47am_  
_We did not have intercourse_

_From Gabriel_  
_11:48am_  
_HA! I knew it! U sly dog!_

_From Me_  
_11:49am_  
_Gabriel_

_From Gabriel_  
_11:52am_  
_U think I don’t know ur methods? U specifically used the word intercourse. Which meant that something else happened. Spill!_

_From Me_  
_11:57am_  
_You’re not going to give up, are you?_

_From Gabriel_  
_11:59am_  
_Do u rly even have 2 ask that question?_

_From Me_  
_12:05pm_  
_All I will say is that there may be something there, and that we are both open to exploring it further._

_From Gabriel_  
_12:07pm_  
_He’s that hot, huh_

_From Me_  
_12:09pm_  
_You have no idea_

_From Gabriel_  
_12:10pm_  
_?????_

_From Me_  
_12:13pm_  
_I had a very…physical reaction._

_From Gabriel_  
_12:13pm_  
_O Rly?! Wow. That’s just…wow. You have 2 go 4 it man! Don’t let that go._

_From Me_  
_12:15pm_  
_Which is why I have to go. We are having lunch to talk some things through and I have to get ready._

_From Gabriel_  
_12:17pm_  
_No prob baby bro. Lemme know when you leave Hicksville, so I know ur on ur way home._

_From Me_  
_12:19pm_  
_I will, Gabriel. Thank you._

_From Gabriel_  
_12:19pm_  
_TTYL_

Castiel sighed as he put his phone down. He had been searching the internet for the form he wanted during his conversation with his big brother and, having finally found it, printed out two copies with his portable printer. He put them and his computer in his satchel. He knew his brother meant well, especially with keeping tabs on him while he traveled, but he had little patience for Gabriel’s lewd ways.

Looking at the time, he realized that he still had about twenty minutes before he had to leave, so he sat, cross-legged, on the floor and meditated. He had to go into this encounter with a clear mind.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Honest communication had never been Dean’s strong suit, he wouldn’t deny that. He was not a big fan of sharing his feelings, but if it meant he had a chance at something with Cas, he was willing to give it a shot. So, he was going to go into this with a clear and open mind.

He’d already cleaned yesterday, and he didn’t want to get all sweaty and grimy by spending some time in the shop. He decided to get to work on lunch. He wasn’t used to cooking for more than just himself anymore, but he did enjoy it. It felt good to be cooking for another person. Checking his stores, he found supplies for roast beef sandwiches. Hunting around a little more, he found the ingredients to make _au jus_ sauce. He set about making lunch and waiting for Cas to show up.

The buzzer rang promptly at one p.m. Punctuality. Huh. Kinda sexy.

“Heya, Cas. How’s the head this afternoon?” He couldn’t help but jab a little. He stepped aside to let the man in.

“Hello, Dean. My head is fine, thank you. How are you doing?” Castiel stepped over the threshold and started up the stairs to the apartment, after Dean gestured to do so.

“I hope you like roast beef. I got sandwiches, _au jus_ , and iced tea. That okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

The two men settled in and ate their meal. They kept the conversation light, neither of them feeling up to changing to heavier topics for the time being; both content to just be in each other’s company.

After the dishes had been cleared and they moved to the couch, Castiel took a deep breath. Dean had the impression that he wanted to say something important.

“What is it, Cas? You look like you have something on your mind.” Dean sat sideways on the couch, facing the older man.

Cas took another moment to steel himself before he started. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. It was unprofessional and inappropriate. I am sorry that I made an awkward situation worse.” He didn’t look at Dean, like he was ashamed of his behavior.

“Dude, don’t worry about it,” Dean said, brushing it off. “I was the one that was sober when it happened, and we both had agreed not to do anything. I could have, hell, I should have stopped it. But I didn’t. And, I have to admit…it was one hell of an orgasm. So, thank you for the apology, but it’s not necessary. Hey, is that why you were so closed off when you left last night? Man, I thought I did something wrong!” Dean frowned, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I did not mean to make you feel that way.” Cas put his head in his hands, with his elbows on his knees.

A knot appeared in Dean’s chest at the sight of Cas distressed. He decided it was a sight he did not want to see again. Scooting closer to Cas, he put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re okay, alright?”

His hand crept up to the back of Cas’ neck, caressing his hairline. Cas turned his head to look at Dean, a mixture of relief and hope on his face. Dean leaned in, telegraphing his intentions so that Cas had the chance to back away. When he leaned forward instead, Dean closed the distance and kissed him. It was just the wrong side of chaste, but it got his point across.

Just as it was about to get heated, Dean pulled away and rested his forehead against Cas’. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Cas replied, as he pulled away. He got up and retrieved his satchel from the kitchen area, pulling out a stack of papers before returning to the couch. “Have you ever had a Dom/sub contract?”

“Erm…no. I’ve heard of ‘em, but I’ve never had one and I don’t know much about ‘em. What’s all in them?” Dean settled back on his end of the couch, still facing Cas. He figured a little space would be prudent, if they were going to have this discussion now.

“Contracts help the Dominant and submissive define their roles in the relationship. It makes issues of consent crystal clear, and it outlines what will and will not happen when we play. It defines boundaries, safewords, triggers, that kind of stuff. Sometimes they’re verbal, but those are usually for single scene interactions. Here. Take a look.” He handed one copy of the contract to Dean. “You look that over, answer the questions. Take your time. Please answer honestly, with your likes and dislikes. Not what you think I’ll want to hear. I’ll fill out mine, as well.” He handed Dean a pen and got to work on his own questionnaire.

As Dean looked the document over, he started to squirm a little. He wasn’t uncomfortable, really, but it was more involved and detailed than he had imagined. It covered everything from safe words and nicknames to almost every kink imaginable, with a scoring system. At the top of the table of kinks was a key, from one to six. One was absolutely YES! Two was ‘mmm, I like this.’ Three was ‘doesn’t excite me, but I’d do it for my partner.’ Four was ‘intriguing but scary.’ Five was ‘embarrassed to admit I want this,’ and six was ‘absolutely not.’

There were almost two hundred kinks on the list. Dean sighed and got to work.

Both men spent the next forty-five minutes or so filling out the questionnaire. Cas finished before Dean, which made sense since it was obvious he’d done it before. While he waited for Dean to finish, he went to the kitchen and refreshed their iced teas. Once Dean was done, they started to discuss the options.

They talked about both their levels of experience, how long they’ve been doing scenes, the types of relationships they’ve had. Dean told Cas about Lisa, and how it ended. He told Cas about Benny and the few other Doms he’d had. He left Alastair out of it for the moment, knowing it would come up but dreading that conversation. He just wanted to delay it as long as possible. They discussed the type of aftercare that Dean felt he needed, which was practically non-existent. They discussed that Dean would only submit during a scene, but that they might discuss more at a later time. They also broached the topic of sometimes having sex as just boyfriends, and not within a scene. Both were very amenable to that idea. As soon as the topic of pain and previous injuries came up, Dean started to get uncomfortable. Cas stopped talking and just looked at Dean, waiting for him to explain.

“Full honesty. I can do this,” he said more to himself than Cas. Rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs and gathering his nerve, he went on. “Okay. So, my last Dom was…not nice.” He chuckled sardonically to himself at the euphemism. “Actually, he was a sadistic asshole that locked me up for almost a week, kept me drugged out of my mind, and tortured me seven ways from Sunday daily. His name was Alastair, and it was two years ago.” Dean got up and paced as he related the story. It’s more information than he’s told any one person, save Sam, and he wasn’t sure how Cas’d take it. “Bobby’d gone to the cops to file a missing persons report and they started looking for me. The one safe thing I always did was tell Sammy where I was going and who I was going to be with. When the police talked to him, they at least had a name to go by. By the time they found me, I was in pretty bad shape and Alastair was nowhere to be found. He’s still out there somewhere. I was in the hospital for two weeks. I have a few scars, but they’re hidden with my tattoo. Alastair was more the fuck with your mind  type, anyway,” he said, gesturing with his hand nervously, “and he was very good at not leaving scars. All the physical damage healed, though my right knee acts up now and then. Most of the time it’s fine. Look, man,” he said, stopping in front of Cas. “I can’t go into a lot of detail. I just can’t. I can tell you that I’m still okay with pain, in fact I need it. But not with anything solid. No paddles, bars, bats, anything like that. No whips, either. Floggers, crops, your hand, those are all okay. And I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. I’m into impact pain, but not stuff like branding, cutting, blood play. That stuff will trigger me, guaranteed. So will names, though not as bad.” Dean plopped himself down on the couch, a big breath of air whooshing out. He recognized that he was saying Alastair’s name out loud a lot, but he needed to. He needed for Alastair not to be his Voldemort.

“Like what,” Cas asked calmly, betraying no emotion.

“Slut, whore, bitch. Negative things like that. I’m more of a praise type of sub. I like to please my Dom, and I like when my Dom appreciates that I’ve been good. That negative shit will knock me right out of a scene. Also…I’m kind of a brat. I can get mouthy, especially if I’ve had a bad day. I tend to push boundaries. At least, I used to,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands.

Castiel listened silently as Dean spoke. When there was a lull in the conversation, he spoke up. “Dean. I very much appreciate your honesty and candor. I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through. It means a lot to me that you would share such a painful experience with me.” The kiss he placed on Dean’s lips was mostly chaste, but Dean returned it eagerly, smiling internally at his reward. “Shall we move on, then?” Cas asked gently. Dean took a moment to drink some iced tea, wishing it was a beer, mentally sighed, and nodded to Cas.

“Let’s talk about bondage, because that’s high up on your list of kinks. You said you have a high tolerance for pain, right? What about marks? How do you feel about that?”

Cas’ voice was firm, yet calming. Dean was able to settle into the conversation without the reservations he’d been carrying, especially after the big reveal of Alastair. Dean had been worried about how Cas would react to that little tidbit. So far, so good.

“Yeah, I have a high tolerance. And, uh, I like to be marked. It’s a possessive thing with me. I like to be claimed. Nothing permanent though. No branding or scarring, like I said. And, for the most part, below the neckline. I do have a day job, after all. I doubt Bobby or Ellen want to see any marks like that,” he snickered, thinking of the looks on their faces if that were to happen.

“It’s a good thing I like to mark my partner, then, isn’t it?” A mischievous glint appeared in Castiel’s eyes and was gone in a flash. “Are there any parts of the body that you would like me to stay away from, in regards to pain and impact play?”

Dean couldn’t understand how Cas’ quiet but firm demeanor was so fucking hot, but it was. It was as if the man was taking every bit of information and filing it away for future use. Dean didn’t think he’d had a conversation this long and involved with anyone, other than Sam, and it was a heady feeling knowing that all of Cas’ attention was on him. It made him feel as though Cas thought what he had to say was important.

“Um, yeah, actually. The head—the face particularly—the backs of my knees, though the rope should be fine, and the bottom of my feet.”

“Noted. What about role play? You indicated that it was something you would like to try, but you didn’t circle any of the provided scenarios.” Cas paused to take a drink of his tea.

“That’s because I don’t really have a particular role play fantasy. I know what I _don’t_ want, though. Nothing negative, like Master and slave, captive, or feminization. Also…no rape fantasy.” He paused, a sheepish look creeping onto his face. “Except…there is one thing. I, uh, like to…erm. Wear panties.” This last part came out in a rush, with worry about Cas’ reaction. He was starting to get the feeling that Cas would listen to any one of his fantasies without judging or kink-shaming.

Dean heard a small gasp and snapped his head up to look at Castiel. Castiel’s eyes were wide  and a look of hunger washed over him. Dean took this as a sign that Cas more than approved of this particular kink. He decided to be a little saucy and crawl across the couch. He was perched next to Cas on all fours, poised to whisper in the man’s ear.

With his lips brushing against the shell of his ear, Dean whispered in a husky tone, “In fact, I’m currently wearing deep blue satin.” Dean chuckled at the moan in response to this revelation, and basked in the glory of the debauched look on Castiel’s face. He retreated back to his corner, looking smug, like he’d just won a round in a boxing match.

“Listen, there’s something I can’t forget.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, unsure what Cas would say about the next part. “Um…I have this thing about consent. I didn’t use to be so strict about it, and I was fine with dubious consent for a long time. That changed two years ago. I need explicit consent. If we’re doing pretty tame stuff, checking in once at the beginning is fine. If we do something I’ve never done before, or particularly intense, I need you to check in occasionally. If it’s something hard-core and I’m too out of it for explicit consent, don’t do it unless we agreed on it beforehand. The explicit consent is a hard limit for me. It calms me down and reassures me that you’ll stop if I say so, and that you’ll stop if I’m too out of it to say so. I’m sure you can understand why that matters to me.” Dean pulled his legs up on the couch, knees just under his chin and arms wrapped around his legs. Cas nodded to let him know that he’d heard and understood. God, Dean hadn’t talked this much since his fourth session with Missouri. The first three were pretty non-productive.

They continued the discussion of Dean’s kinks and requirements for about five more minutes before switching to Castiel’s questionnaire. They discovered that they shared many of the same kinks in common. For instance, the explicit consent was a hard line for Cas, as well, and was something he was more than willing to accommodate for Dean. Neither one were into verbal abuse or humiliation, though Cas was fond of pet names like kitten and princess. Dean felt he could put up with princess if it wasn’t a regular thing, and wasn’t accompanied by things like makeup and dressing in women’s clothes, panties excluded. For some reason he couldn’t explain, kitten sent a jolt of arousal up his spine. Orgasm delay or denial was one of Cas’ top kinks, as well as the use of toys. And, obviously, quite a variety of bondage.

Dean’s left leg started bouncing up and down. Not huge, just a little bit, and it was unconscious, really.

“Two final points, Dean,” Cas said as he finished making notes in the margins of their sheets. “There are two very hard limits for me that I need you to agree to right now, or we cannot move forward.” Castiel turned to Dean to look him in the eye, waiting until he was sure he had Dean’s full attention. “There will be no sexual contact that involves an exchange of any bodily fluids until both of us have been fully tested and the other sees the report. I detest condoms and would like to feel you without any barriers between us.”

“No problem. I can go to the clinic tomorrow.” Dean was relieved that Cas had mentioned it. He’d had a very intense six months after Alastair, waiting to see if any diseases reared their ugly head. Thankfully, the monster had not left him with one.

“Excellent. I can see my doctor on Tuesday, after I return to Chicago. The second point is that I don’t share. While you are with me you will be with no other person. I will not loan you out to another Dom, and I will not tolerate anyone else touching you. I will also not interact with anyone else sexually. Are we in agreement?”

Dean was getting just an inkling of what Cas’ Dom voice sounded like. A shiver ran through him at the thought of what he would sound and act like in full Dom mode.

“Yes, very much yes, Sir.” Dean had no problem sticking to one partner, if it was understood that they would be together more than once. What thrilled him, was the idea that Cas wouldn’t be with anyone else, either. That he would want Dean, and only Dean. There’s that possessive kink, peeking its head out.

Cas chuckled at the honorific, obviously pleased. “Good. I can get kind of possessive. Somehow, I don’t think that will be a problem for you,” he said with a sly smile. “I think we’re done here, for now. Obviously, if something comes up that we didn’t think about here, we’ll discuss it. Do you have any questions, concerns?”

Dean was practically vibrating by then. He shook his head no and tried like hell to rein himself in. He tried to figure out why he was jittery, and discovered that, while he appreciated and welcomed the honesty, he was very much not used to it. He had been worried about it all night and morning, mostly because he was worried about Cas’ reaction. Would he think Dean a kinky freak that he didn’t want to spend time with? How would he react to his past? Would he throw him away as used and damaged goods? Or would he just want to use Dean in whatever way he wanted, like past partners?

Dean had never received such clear honesty from a sexual partner before—or anyone for that matter— nor had he given it, and didn’t really know how to handle it. He was afraid that the fact that he wasn’t the sharing type would put Cas off and make him not want to pursue the relationship.

There was that word again. Relationship. Not new for Dean, _per se_ …just not a normal occurrence.

He was also nervous about that. Would he be good at it? He felt horribly that, no matter how much he wanted it, he would fuck it up. Some things went well for him. His love life was not one of them…he generally referred to it as a massive train wreck. There had even been some lookee-loos along the way. Well, fuck ’em. Fuck ’em all.

He wanted this, and he was going to be damned if he let anyone, including himself, get in the way.

Cas noticed his agitation and called him out on it. “Dean, is something wrong?” He sounded concerned.

“Oh! No, I just…I’m not used to the touchy feely thing. I usually just stick with the touchy and skip the feely, ya know? I guess I’ve just got a lot of pent-up energy to burn,” he smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck again.

“How do you normally handle that?” The eyebrow that raised was very suggestive and oddly authoritative—like a teacher would be—at the same time. “Do you go work in the shop?”

“Only if I’m working with the forge and hammering metal, but usually not even then. I’m too jittery; I’d either mess up the metal or get hurt with one of the machines. Nah, the main ways I blow off steam are usually sex and booze. Since neither one are an option right now, I’m thinking we should go for a drive. I can show you the town, such as it is, and maybe we can go farther out so you can see what Kansas is like.” Dean felt hopeful, but tentative. He was afraid that Castiel would think it a stupid, lame, boring idea. What he received, instead, was a bright happy look and an enthusiastic agreement.

So, the two men piled into the Impala and went for a drive. Dean showed Castiel all around town and they drove through the wheat and corn fields.

Dean steadfastly ignored the fact that it felt very much like what a relaxing Sunday drive with the family would be. He was able to blow it off, though, with the excuse that he’d never gone for a lazy Sunday drive with the family, so he didn’t _really_ know what it felt like. But he allowed a small sliver of himself believe that it felt just like this.

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Castiel rode in silence as they went through the beautiful wheat fields, taking in the beauty of nature. He was pleased that the conversation went so well. Dean had warned him that he wasn’t into sharing his emotions, but Castiel felt that he did very well. He was disturbed by the story of Dean’s last Dom, though. He would have to be careful in crafting their scenes. He decided that he wanted to start slow, perhaps even without being in a scene at first. Getting to know his partner’s cues and tells was important in knowing if something was going very wrong. Or very right. And if Dean became non-verbal when he was deep, body cues would be more important than ever.

No matter how many times he tried to keep his thoughts innocent or clinical, they always came back to deep blue satin panties. Dean had unknowingly hit one of Castiel’s major kinks. He didn’t go for the whole fem thing—hello, kinda gay—but there was just something alluring about a man in panties. The contrast of the hard muscled physique and soft, delicate fabric. And the knowledge that Dean was currently wearing them—and sitting about two feet from him—that was just all kinds of hot. Dean was sex on legs, the Impala was sex on wheels. Put Dean behind the wheel and Castiel was starting to sweat. Which was still confusing as hell for him. How was it even possible?

He schooled his features to show no emotion, something he’d learned long ago when dealing with his family. He turned his head to ask Dean a question and—

_“Meet me at the ice cream truck; I'll buy you an ice cream; I'll whip out my drumstick; that will make your eyes gleam; lick it up quick before it melts on the floor; I got it!”_ his phone blared.

“Dammit, Gabriel!” Castiel yelled out loud as he dug in his jeans pocket for his cell phone. “Not a word out of you, Winchester!”

Dean was obviously trying very hard not to laugh. He was failing miserably.

“Dammit, Gabriel!” Castiel yelled again as he answered his phone. “How many times have I asked you not to change my ringtone! This is very inappropriate.” The last sentence was punched out in a loud whisper. Castiel was angry but, more than that, he was embarrassed. It would have been much worse if Castiel was in the presence of a client.

_“Calm your tits, Cassie. I called to say stop thinking. I can hear you from here!”_

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand.” Castiel rubbed a hand across his face. He wasn’t prepared to deal with his brother today.

_“Cassie, please. I know you. I may be the big brother, but we’re still twins. I know when you’re freaking out about something. So spill.”_

“You are older by three minutes, that hardly counts.” Castiel sighed deeply. Gabriel was not going to let this go.

_“Three minutes and fifty-two seconds, bucko! I’m still the older brother. And you can’t hide from me. What’s going on? I can feel the angst two states away.”_

Pinching the bridge of his nose against the oncoming headache, Castiel replied sternly, “Now is not a good time.”

_“Why, are you out with your new boy toy? Are you gettin’ in on right now?”_

Castiel could hear the glee in his brother’s voice, along with a loud chuckle. With a deep sigh, he deadpanned, “Yes, Gabriel, he’s balls deep in my ass right now. What do you want?” He had to put a hand on the dashboard to steady himself as the Impala swerved and righted itself. Looking over at Dean, he saw the man had flushed a deep red color and was gripping the steering wheel tight.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Dean muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching.

_“Holy fuck, Cassie!”_ There were sounds of Gabriel choking on a lollipop. _“I’m impressed! I didn’t think you had it in you…well, apparently you have a lot in you right now,”_ he said, laughing. _“Hey, I thought you topped…”_

“I’m serious, Gabriel, what do you want?” This was just getting more and more fun. Castiel’s headache was in full force.

_“Seriously, Cassie, I can feel you emoting from here, which means you’re freaking out about something. Is it that thing we talked about this morning? The ‘physical reaction’ thing? Just say yes or no.”_

“Yes.”

_“Do you want to talk about it?”_

“Not right now, no. Maybe not ever, with the way you’re acting.”

_“Fine, fine, I get the picture. Call me later, when you’re not having sexy fun times.”_

“We’re not—” He could hear the click of the phone call ending. “Dammit.” He looked at his phone, unable to look at the man next to him.

“I, uh…I apologize for that. Gabriel knows how to push my buttons.” Castiel put his phone away. He could change the ringtone to a more appropriate one later. He cringed at the thought that he’d have to go through every single contact to make sure that Gabriel hadn’t changed any others, since he couldn’t be sure which ringtones had been messed with.

“Hey, man, no problem. I know how brothers are. I am an older brother, you know. I’m impressed with how you handled him, though. What did he want, anyway?”

“He was…concerned. About me.”

“What, does he think I’d hurt you? Take advantage? What?” Dean was incredulous at the thought of bringing harm to the man sitting next to him.

“No, of course not.” Castiel took a minute to gather his thoughts. Just when it looked like Dean was going to interject, Castiel continued. “He was concerned because of my reaction to you.”

“What do you mean, your reaction to me?” Dean was glancing back and forth between the road and Castiel, concern on his face.

“Because you were so up front about…your past Dom, I will be as candid with you. I don’t share this with very many people. Have you ever heard the term demisexual?” Castiel looked at Dean, trying to gauge his reaction.

Dean’s brow wrinkled a little bit. “It sounds familiar, but I don’t know what it is.” He was very obviously listening fully, even though his eyes were on the road.

“I am demisexual, Dean. What that means, essentially, is that I need to be emotionally connected to someone in order to become sexually attracted to them. I’ve never become attracted to a woman, just men. For me, it usually takes at least several months of getting to know someone, if it ever occurs. To date, I have been sexually attracted to six people in my life, yourself included. It is…unusual for me to be so taken with someone in such a short period of time. It’s confusing for me.” He looks down at his hands, waiting for Dean’s reaction.

“Hey, look. I don’t want to do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable. If you’re not sure about this, it stops here.” The firmness in his voice told Castiel that he was dead serious. Which, oddly, made him feel better.

First, he didn’t call Castiel a freak, or make fun of his sexuality. His first thought was for Castiel’s comfort level. This only endeared him more to Castiel. Swallowing the butterflies that suddenly took residence in his stomach, he replied, “Thank you, Dean. I am not uncomfortable in the traditional sense. I am merely trying to understand why I’ve had this reaction. Before this weekend, I would have said it was impossible. Yet, here we are. Driving through the wheat fields of Kansas and all I can think about is ripping all your clothes off so I can see what you look like in those blue satin panties.”

The next few minutes passed in a blur. The Impala screeched as it turned a corner rapidly, on to a curving dirt road in the middle of a field. As soon as the car was out of sight of the main road, Dean parked her, slammed on the e-brake, and turned off the ignition. Before Castiel could question the man, he was on him, smashing their lips together and pinning him against the passenger door.

“Less talk. Fuck, less clothes.” Dean’s kisses were forceful, demanding. A small little voice in the back of Castiel’s mind told him to ask Dean about that later…did he switch? That could bring about some interesting play time. His focus was brought back to the head of a pin when Dean sat back a little and quickly pulled his shirt up and over his head, throwing it into the back seat.

As the man’s arms extended, showing off his naked torso, Castiel could see a splash of color starting at the front of Dean’s right hip. Castiel traced the ink from the tip, brushing his fingers lightly up the pattern on his side, disappearing around his back. Dean caught him staring and smirked a little bit. He raised his right arm behind his head, and turned his torso so Cas could see the entire design. It was a rainbow of colors; the image was literally dripping with color. The design was a [wing](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/474x/0b/b0/bc/0bb0bc55f1dfcb5db2dad6b53ebfe1e7.jpg), reminiscent of an angel’s wing, very large and covering the entire side. There were drops of color coming off the feathers, like it was a watercolor painting in progress. The effect was beautiful, and not something Castiel would expect Dean to have. As he was tracing the design, he could feel ridges along the lines of some of the feathers. He knew tattoos could create some scarring, but this was an expertly crafted piece, and should not have scarred.

Dean must have noticed the confusion on his face and the hesitation in his fingers. He laid his hand on top of Castiel’s and moved their fingers to trace along the ridges. “The only physical scars I have left,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Why a wing?” Castiel asked, bringing his other hand up to Dean’s right side, mirroring the movements.

“Coupla reasons. My, uh, my mom used to always tell me that angels were watching over me. When the cops found me, it was like, I don’t know, a miracle or something. I’d been gone a week, they were looking everywhere. Then, all of a sudden, they get an anonymous tip. They found me three hours later. The color is because I’m lucky to be alive. The wing is for the angel that has to be watching over me. I like to think that my mom was that angel.” He ran his hands up Castiel’s arms. He obviously wasn’t expecting the light chuckle from the man beneath him and quirked an eyebrow in question.

“I’m sorry, I’m not making fun, I promise. I’m just amused by the sense of irony here.” Dean raised the other eyebrow, prompting Cas to continue. “Dean, I’m named after an angel.” He paused, looking up at Dean, waiting for it to sink in.

After about five seconds of just staring at Cas, Dean burst out laughing. He leaned forward and tucked his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck, trying to get ahold of himself.  “Man, that’s rich! How’d they even come up with that one?”

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean, fingers tracing random patterns on his back. “Religious family. We’re all named after angels.” One hand snaked up into Dean’s hair and tugged, pulling his face back just enough to meet eye-to-eye. “What happened to less talk and even less clothes?” He pulled Dean’s face down further, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

Breathless, Dean replied, “Back seat,” and leaned back enough to let Cas sit up. Before he could go anywhere, Dean grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it up over his head, letting it fall to the seat behind him. Emerald green eyes were looking him up and down hungrily, an internal struggle visible on Dean’s face. It was like he  couldn’t decide whether to let Castiel move to the back or put his lips on every inch of exposed skin. Eventually, he patted Castiel’s thigh a few times and said, “C’mon, let’s go.”

As Castiel was crawling over the back seat and settling in a sitting position, Dean reached into the glove box and retrieved a small bottle of lube and a condom.

“Regular Boy Scout, hunh?” Castiel  said, taking the supplies from Dean and placing them on the seat next to him. “Take off your pants. Let me see those panties.”

Castiel’s breath caught as the denim worked down Dean’s hips. The blue was deep and matched the blue in the tattoo perfectly, complimenting his skin tone, as well. The man before him was gorgeous. Sharply defined muscles, pert nipples, lips soft and swollen from kissing; it was all an aphrodisiac to Castiel, and he couldn’t wait to partake.

“Come here, Dean.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He was over the seat in a flash, straddling Castiel’s lap and leaning down to kiss him.

Castiel embraced Dean, with one hand finding its way back to Dean’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Nipping his lower lip, Castiel pulled back and said, “We are not going to fuck today, Dean. However,” he said, kissing away the pout that appeared on Dean’s lips, “if you’re a good boy, I may let you come. Can you be a good boy, Dean? Can you be a good kitten?”

The moan that greeted the last question was positively sinful, and answered the question about whether Dean would like that pet name. Dean’s hips started grinding down on Castiel’s lap.

“Yes, S-Sir. I can be a very good boy. How can I be a good boy for you?” He accented the word ‘good’ by a particularly filthy roll of his hips, causing Castiel’s hands to fly to Dean’s hips to stop the movement.

“You will hold still, kitten. And you will do as you’re told. Undo my jeans, push them down.” Castiel raised his hips enough to allow the jeans to be pushed down below his knees. Less layers is one of the advantages of going commando. Blue satin panties, though…man. He hoped Dean wore panties every day. Then again, the thought that he put them on this morning, in the hopes that Castiel would see them, know they were just for him, exhilarated him.

Dean was looking at Castiel’s erection, then at his eyes, and back again. He licked his lips and pulled the bottom one in between his teeth. Castiel knew that look, and he sorely wanted to let Dean suck his cock.

After they’d been tested.

With a deep internal sigh, he said, “Not today, kitten. Soon. Today, I want to see what these beautiful panties look like covered in your come.” He reached out and snaked his fingers under the waistband of the panties, tugging the front low enough to expose Dean’s hard cock and lodge the band just behind his balls. “Touch yourself, Dean. Show me how you like it.”

Castiel expected Dean to use his own hand. What he hadn’t expected was for Dean to grab Castiel’s hand and bring it up to his face. Green eyes locked on blue, a bright pink tongue licking up the length of Castiel’s open palm several times, then wrapped it around his sizable erection. Dean directed his hand with his own overtop, squeezing and twisting at different intervals. Dean’s spare hand started massaging his own balls, rolling them back and forth gently.

“So beautiful,” Castiel whispered, as he ran his free hand up Dean’s torso, thumbing over a nipple. “Mmmm, sensitive, too. I like that,” he purred, when Dean’s breath hitched at the stimulation to the sensitive nub. Castiel pinched it experimentally and was pleased with the small cry in response. He made sure that both nipples got equal attention and, by the time he was done, Dean’s hips were moving slightly, essentially fucking Castiel’s hand.

So he removed his hand.

He chuckled at the small cry of indignation this action received. “My my, kitten. You’ve forgotten your instructions already.” Castiel tut-tutted and shook his head, trying to school his face into one of disappointment.

Dean froze and stared at him, mild confusion on his face. Castiel just sat there, staring back at Dean, waiting for it to click.

A look of dawning horror crept up Dean’s features, and he immediately lowered his gaze and his head, placing both hands on his thighs. It was as close to a submissive kneel as he could get, given their current positions. “I’m sorry, Sir. I got caught up. I’ll do better, I promise. I can be good.” Then he waited for the Dom’s response.

“Good boy,” Castiel murmured, “such a good boy, figuring it out. But next time you’ll do better, yes? You’ll remember your instructions, right?” His hand moved up to cup Dean’s cheek, and the man leaned into the touch. The Dom relished the abrasive feel of the stubble, running his thumb back and forth over Dean’s cheekbone.

“Yes, Sir, I will. Thank you, Sir.” Other than leaning his head into Castiel’s hand, Dean had not moved. He’d learned his lesson.

It had been a long time since he’d been called Sir in this capacity. He’d almost forgotten the rush that came with it. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment, gathering his thoughts. There were so many possibilities. But everything was so new, and he really did want to take it slow with Dean. He didn’t want to push him away, or, God forbid, trigger him. That could be devastating.

Slow it was, then.

Castiel reached down and started stroking himself lazily, watching as Dean’s face went through several different emotions. While he could not figure them all out, he could discern frustration. Frustration that Castiel was stroking himself, and not letting Dean do it.

“You want your hand on my cock, is that it, kitten? Is that what you want?”

Dean’s eyes were half-lidded with want. “Yes, Sir. Want to make you come. Want to make you feel good.” He was biting his lower lip, as if to keep from saying any more.

“Put the condom on me, kitten. Nice and slow.” Castiel removed his hand and grasped both Dean’s hips to ground himself. He watched as Dean picked up the foil packet, ripped it open, and started unfolding it around his throbbing erection. Oh, but it felt nice to have someone else’s hand on him after all this time. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coming just from that. “Good boy, thank you.”

Castiel took up the small bottle of lube and coated several fingers of his right hand. With his left hand, he guided Dean’s hips closer to his own, so he could align their erections. “You may move, kitten, and you may be as loud as you are comfortable.” He grasped both their erections and started stroking with long, slow pulls. Dean groaned loudly in response, and Cas tightened his grip. “You will not come until I tell you, understood?”

It took a little effort, but Dean replied, “Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir,” before leaning down to kiss him.

Dean’s hips started to move in time with Castiel’s fist, shallowly at first, but building up to quite the rhythm. Castiel’s other hand was convulsively gripping and relaxing on Dean’s hip. He brought that hand down to join the other, interlacing his fingers and making a tight tunnel for their cocks to slip through.

“Oh, God, Sir…that feels so good! Unngh,” Dean moaned, unable to keep quiet after having been given permission to be loud. “Fuck, yeah, Cas, just like that.”

Under normal circumstances Dean’s voice was arousing, but in the throes of passion it was honey-soaked whiskey and went right to Castiel’s core. His breathing was erratic, all his focus on the gorgeous creature moaning his name. With every stroke he felt himself get closer to the edge. His balls were tightening up, and there was that familiar aching need in his groin. The need to go faster, to chase the release. To sate the need. He began moving his hips in time with Dean’s. Every time Dean pushed, Cas pulled back, so they were on opposite ends of the stroke.

Under normal circumstances, Castiel was usually fairly quiet, except for his praise as a Dom. He was quickly realizing that there was nothing normal about his interactions with Dean. He was the most vocal he’d been since, well, since Balthazar, unable to stop the moans and gasps from breaking free. When Dean leaned down to kiss Castiel, shoving his tongue inside his mouth, Castiel was done for. He came with a shout that Dean quickly swallowed. Dean slowed his hips but did not stop, gentling Cas through the aftershocks.

Once he had come back to himself enough to think even halfway clearly, he looked up at Dean to see the look of absolute concentration on his face.

“Are you holding back for me? You’ve been such a good boy, haven’t you?” The responding whine made Cas smile. “Go ahead, then, Dean. Come for me.” Dean’s hips picked up speed, rubbing against Cas’ still hard cock inside the channel created by Cas’ hands. “Come!”

Dean stilled as white ropes of come painted his own abdomen, his face locked in a silent ‘O’. Castiel moved his hands, stroking Dean through his orgasm, just as the sub had done for him. As they lay there in the afterglow, Dean’s come dripping down onto his blue panties, Castiel reached up and kissed him deeply, humming in appreciation.

After he’d had a second or two to recover, Dean turned his upper body to grab something from the front seat. He used the napkins he’d placed there earlier to wipe his belly and tucked himself away. Castiel’s hands, however…Dean took them each in turn and licked his own come off of each finger with slow, deliberate motions of his tongue.

“Shit,” Castiel said, unable to form coherent thought at the sight. So he just watched until Dean was finished. After, he just held the beautiful man until his brain cells came back online.

“Thank you, Dean. That was wonderful,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down the man’s thighs.

“Mmmmm. Welcome. That was awesome. We should probably get back, though. As much fun as it would be to get arrested for indecent exposure, I’d never live it down. Small town people are ruthless, man, I’m tellin’ ya.” He grabbed Castiel’s shirt from the front seat and handed it to him before grabbing his own from the back seat and putting it on.

They finished getting dressed in silence, having discarded the napkins and used condom in the small bag Dean kept in the car for trash. With one last lingering kiss, Dean started the engine and drove back towards town.

[](http://imgur.com/MvtAI8y)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's ringtone: [Ice Cream Truck ft. Cazwell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2w02QxQZGQc&oref=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D2w02QxQZGQc&has_verified=1)


	9. Chapter 8 Road Trip

Once they got back to town, they agreed that dinner was in order. In a very public place, so as to avoid temptation. Neither was in the mood for anything elaborate, nor were they in the mood to be confronted with Dean’s surrogate family. So they ate at a nice, anonymous Chinese place.

Somewhere between the potstickers and the Moo Shoo, Castiel found his voice again. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Sure thing…for what?” He looked like a confused puppy dog and it was adorable.

“Thank you for not judging me, and for not asking hurtful questions.” Dean gave him a questioning look, so he continued, slowly. “Not many people have heard of demisexuality. Most don’t even think it’s a legitimate orientation. I’ve actually been accused of using it as an excuse to not go out with someone, and my mom thinks I just haven’t met the right girl yet,” he said, popping another piece of pork into his mouth.

Dean smiled, “Yeah, well, it would be pretty hypocritical of me to judge. I identify as bi, but I probably fit more into the pan end of the spectrum.  I’ve been called some pretty nasty names, and not just by strangers, so I’m the last person that’s gonna judge something like who you like to fuck…or not fuck, as the case may be. Although, I have to say…you seem to have a thing for the Impala. Should I be worried?” He quirked an eyebrow in jest, a small smirk appearing around the chopsticks as he ate another bite.

“Dean, that car is sex on wheels,” Castiel retorted. “Put you behind the wheel and I had no chance. No chance whatsoever.”

They finished their meal talking about Castiel’s upcoming photo shoot. He told Dean how he was getting ready for a gallery opening at the end of August, and this was one of three more shoots he needed to complete the series. As Dean drove them back to his place so Castiel could pick up his car, they worked out that Dean would drive up on Friday and stay the weekend to observe the shoot. Castiel shot Dean an incredulous look when he told Castiel that he didn’t fly.

“It’s going to be bad enough next month when we go out to Cali for Sam’s graduation. It would take too long to drive there and back, and I can’t take that much time off work.” Dean explained that he was going to have to pull some extra shifts to make up for the time he’d spend in Chicago next weekend. Ellen wouldn’t mind him coming in during the week to work, but it did mean he’d have to work the next few Saturdays at the shop once he got back. His building may be paid for, but he still had living expenses and Sam’s law school to save for.

After they returned to the warehouse, they leaned against Baby making out lazily for a good twenty minutes or so. Castiel broke away reluctantly, saying he had to get back and pack. He had to make sure his gear was carefully packed up for the plane, and he didn’t want to be rushed in that.

With promises to text and call, and to see each other Friday night, they parted ways. Dean watched as Castiel drove away, and didn’t go inside until he could no longer see tail lights.

Walking to his door, Dean pushed a button on a key fob. The fob looked like an ordinary car fob, but instead unlocked his security system. His system, installed by his best friend Charlie, would make the Secret Service weep. There were motion detectors everywhere, including the drive up, that activated the camera system. All cameras were hidden or disguised, and _every_ aspect of the property, inside and out, was under surveillance. The fob disabled the system to let him inside, where he had to punch in a code just inside the door. He then had five minutes to go to the other end of the warehouse, to his apartment, and punch in a different code inside that door. If either failed to be punched in in the time allotted, the system would alert the police and Charlie. There was also an SOS code, to punch in if he was under duress. This would also alert the authorities.

That wasn’t the end of it. The cameras were motion activated and recorded everything. There was a small solar panel on the roof dedicated to the security system, in the event the power is cut. Each of the outdoor cameras had their own mini solar panels so Dean didn’t have to worry about changing batteries or getting them hard-wired in. The system was wireless and had NSA-level encryption. It was backed up on three separate secure cloud servers. Once a week he logged in and purged the previous week, after quickly reviewing the footage. If he didn’t see anything suspicious, he purged. No use keeping footage of him in his studio or brushing his teeth. But if he didn’t do the weekly login, the system alerted Charlie. She would hunt Dean down to make sure he was okay. The first time he’d forgotten the protocol, she’d practically broken down his door to make sure he was okay.

He never forgot after that.

Dean spent the next hour going through the footage, purging almost everything. There was one car that drove up to his place that didn’t seem familiar. By itself it wasn’t suspicious, but Dean had learned his lesson. He saved that video in the backup, and emailed it to Charlie. Maybe she could get a license plate number, or even pull a face. He purged everything else and logged out of the system.

The rest of the evening was just putzing around the place, waiting till bedtime. He called Bobby and asked for Friday and the following Monday off. He couched it as follow-up for the magazine article. Which it kind of was. If you squinted. And tilted your head a little.

He finally gave up and got ready for bed. When he was settling down between the sheets, he decided to send a message to Cas.

_From me_  
_10:02pm_  
_Hey Cas. You all packed?_

Dean turned to his side to get comfortable, not sure if he would hear from Cas or not. Soon enough, his phone buzzed with an incoming message.

_From Cas_  
_10:04pm_  
_Hello, Dean. Yes, I am._

_From me_  
_10:05pm_  
_Whatchya doin?_

_From Cas_  
_10:05pm_  
_Trying, unsuccessfully, to sleep. You?_

_From me_  
_10:05pm_  
_Same. Too wired. This weekend was intense, man. My brain just won’t stop._

_From Cas_  
_10:07pm_  
_Same here. It’s a lot to process._

_From me_  
_10:08pm_  
_Yeah, it is. Hey, I just wanted 2 tell u…I had a great time with u. Seriously._

_From Cas_  
_10:09pm_  
_Me, too, Dean. More than I can truly express. I look forward to this weekend. I have so much I want to show you._

_From me_  
_10:11pm_  
_Like?_

_From Cas_  
_10:11pm_  
_Well, there is a club in Chicago called The Velvet Underground. It’s a member’s only fetish club, and my friends Victor and Pamela are performing on Saturday night. I have a standing invitation to their shows because I usually document. I’d love to introduce you to them. Pamela can help you with any questions you may have about being suspended._

_From me_  
_10:15pm_  
_Dude, I’m supposed 2 be trying 2 go 2 sleep, not getting hard at the thought of going 2 a fetish club w/  u_

_From Cas_  
_10:16pm_  
_Apologies. I’ll leave you to your sleep then ;)_

_From me_  
_10:16pm_  
_Fucking asshole_

_From Cas_  
_10:17pm_  
_Goodnight, Dean_

_From me_  
_10:18pm_  
_Night Cas_

✦✧✦✧✦✧

As soon as he got up the next morning, Dean called his doctor’s office. They were able to fit him in first thing, so he dressed quickly and made his way to town. Once the physical was completed and samples taken, he headed to work.

He worked with a purpose, wanting to get through as many vehicles as possible to make up for taking two days off. Every once in awhile, Bobby would kind of glance at him sideways, but he didn’t comment, for which Dean was grateful. He wasn’t ready to share details of the weekend with anyone just yet.

Around lunchtime, his cellphone buzzed with a text message.

_From The Red Queen_  
_12:03pm_  
_Yo Bitch! Wazzup?_

_From Me_  
_12:04pm_  
_Nada just work, u?_

_From The Red Queen_  
_12:04pm_  
_OK 2 talk?_

_From Me_  
_12:05pm_  
_Yeah on lunch_

_From The Red Queen_  
_12:06pm_  
_Coolio. Just wanted 2 update u on the video u sent me_

_From The Red Queen_  
_12:06pm_  
_Plate was stolen, it’ll take me a few days 2 run it down. Couldn’t get a VIN or a face, angle was wrong. Driver nvr got out, just circled the bldg coupla times then left_

_From The Red Queen_  
_12:07pm_  
_It is a little weird, just cuz of the plates, but nothing else_

_From Me_  
_12:09pm_  
_Tx. Keep me posted?_

_From The Red Queen_  
_12:10pm_  
_Sure thing. Movie night?_

_From Me_  
_12:11pm_  
_Thurs? Workin every night but that_

_From The Red Queen_  
_12:13pm_  
_WFM. I’ll bring the grub_

_From Me_  
_12:14pm_  
_See u Red_

The next few days were uneventful for Dean. He worked at the shop during the day, took a few hours to himself (during which he indulged in texting with Cas), then worked till 1 a.m. at The Roadhouse. As the week progressed, he grew more and more excited for the coming weekend. He was unsure what to expect, but he was excited nonetheless.

Thursday evening came with little fanfare, until Charlie waltzed in the door bearing pizza.

“What’s up, biatch?! Ready for an _Evil Dead_ marathon?” She bounced over to the kitchen table and put the pizza down.

Dean set about getting plates, napkins, and drinks, setting them on the coffee table. “Sorry, man, can’t. I can do one, maybe two, but I’ve got a long drive tomorrow so I have to be up early.” He brought the pizzas over to the coffee table and started dishing himself up, plopping down on the couch.

“Oh yeah? I thought you weren’t going to see Sam till next month. Where ya goin’?” She said, with a hint of amusement and a whole lot of curiosity, as she put the first movie in the system. She wandered over to dish herself up and gave him a pointed look.

“Uh…nowhere. Chicago. Sort of a follow-up to the photo shoot.” He rubbed the back of his neck and tried hard to be nonchalant. He wasn’t sure how successful he was, seeing as how she could read him like a book. They’d only been friends for about a year and a half, but, besides Sam, she knew him better than anyone. He thought of her as a little sister. A little sister that knew every sordid detail and didn’t judge him for it. Tease him to Hell and back, yes, but judge…no. Didn’t mean he was going to just spew forth the details. He’d make her work for them.

“Follow up. Suuuuure. He was hot, wasn’t he?” She waggled her eyebrows at him as she took a bite.

“Charles. Come on. Don’t tell me you didn’t vet him up the wazoo the second the shoot was booked. I know you better than that, Queen of all things technical and informatic.” He gave her a half-hearted bitchface, co-opted from Sammy. Okay, so maybe he picked up a few of his brother’s habits. Sue him.

“Okay, yeah, guilty. Just so you know, he’s totally on the up and up. Kinda messed up family, but, you know…who’s isn’t? Anyway, yeah, he’d be hot, if I swung that way. So, you hit that?”

He had a sheepish look on his face and refused to meet her gaze.

“Oh my God! You totes did! _That’s_ why you’re going to Chicago, aren’t you? It’s a booty call!” She laughed wholeheartedly, clearly enjoying the revelation.

“It is _not_ a booty call! Okay, maybe kinda. But that’s not all. There’s a connection, at least the start of one. He’s…different.”

“Different how?”

“Well, for starters, he’s real big on honesty and full disclosure. I’ve never had that with anyone, not even Sammy. Yeah, I don’t lie to you guys, but there’s some stuff I keep to myself, ya know? Some stuff that’s just…hard to talk about.” He got quiet at the last, confident that she’d know what he was talking about and not push him.

“Dude, how’s that workin’ for ya?” She was a little incredulous. Dean was, after all, not the sharing and caring type.

“Man, it was weird! But get this, he’s a Dom. And he’s interested. And he’s nice. And _oh my God_ he’s hot!” He put his head in his hands and sighed. He suddenly felt like a highschool girl with her first major crush.

“But?” She encouraged. She definitely knew him too well.

“But…what if I screw it up? Char, this could be the start of something…good. God knows I need good for once. But I’m a little messed up, ya know? Shit’s happened. Hell, I’m not even sure I know what good looks like.”

He truly was concerned that he’d mess it up. He’d had exactly one long-term relationship, and look how that turned out. He also had literally no long term relationship in his life as examples. His mom died when he was young, both Bobby’s and Ellen’s spouses died years ago, and Sammy and Jess just imploded. There was no one around for him to get a baseline reading as to what a long term relationship should look like. But dammit, he was going to try.

“You know what? Forget it. Let’s just watch the movie, ‘kay?” He settled back into the cushion and continued to eat his pizza.

Charlie glanced sideways at him with a look that left little room for doubt that the subject would be revisited at a later, very random, date. But, to her credit, she kept silent and pressed play on the remote. Dean was eternally grateful that she didn’t push the issue right then.

Whatever it was between Dean and Castiel, it was very new. Dean wasn’t superstitious, but he didn’t want to jinx anything by talking about it too much. Talking led to speculation, which could lead to hurt feelings. He wanted to go into this weekend without any preconceived notions or biases that weren’t his own.

After the second movie they started to clean up the remains of their meal. As Charlie was putting the remaining meat pizza in the fridge and wrapping her Supreme to go, she broached the topic one more time.

“Just tell me you’ll be careful, okay? I know a repeat performance of two years ago is highly unlikely, but still. I don’t know if I could stand to see you like that again, and I only got involved six months later.” She sounded uncharacteristically wistful, and Dean immediately moved to comfort her, squeezing her to him with a big one-armed hug . Big brother strikes again.

“Hey, now. That’s not gonna happen, ‘kay?” He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Look. I wasn’t gonna bring it up ‘cause, TMI and everything, but we made a contract. A Dom/sub contract. We had a long discussion about likes and dislikes, triggers, aftercare, etc. He knows about Alastair. Just the bare bones, but he knows what to avoid. And he didn’t bolt the second I told him. That’s gotta count for something, yeah?” He let go of her shoulders and started fidgeting. “Also, it was a hard line for him that we both get tested. Which, hey, not gonna snub that one. I can’t go through that fear of what if again. But that doesn’t smack of a person who isn’t at least partially invested in the outcome of whatever this is. Am I right?”

Dean bounced around the kitchen, cleaning the dishes, putting the pizza boxes in his recycling bin, wiping down the countertops; all in an effort to distract from the fact that he genuinely did want Charlie’s opinion of Castiel’s actions and intentions.  He realized, belatedly, that he was attempting to reassure himself as much as he was Charlie by that point.

“Hell, he even revealed his own big secret after I told him about Alastair, just so I wouldn’t feel one-sided in the whole show and tell portion of the day.”

“Yeah? What was the big secret? Come on,” she said, after he gave her a look that said ‘what part of secret don’t you get’. “Dude, we have the most top secret relationship of anyone out there. We tell each other shit we wouldn’t even confess to in church. If we ever went to church. Anyway. Spill.”

“Okay, but just so you know, the _only_ reason I’m telling you this is because you’ll never stop. Cas is demisexual.” He waited, not so patiently, for her reaction. Being a very vocal Pride advocate, he was sure that she knew what that was. He also expected no judgements from her about it. He thought, though, that she might think he wouldn’t handle it well.

“Really? That’s cool! You got any questions about it?”

Charlie’s reaction caught him off guard a bit. He thought she’d tease him a little bit more. Something along the lines of widening his sexual horizons. But he was wrong, and gladly so.

“Nope, he explained it pretty well. Plus, with the whole honesty thing, I actually feel like I can go right to him if I have a question. Which, weird. Not my usual MO, but whatever. If it means I get to hang out with him more, so be it.”

“Well, that’s awesome, bro. Hey, speaking of safety protocols, shoot me the addy in Chi-town, and make sure the GPS on your phone is on.” She spoke as if it were nothing, asking her best friend for the deets of when, where, and with whom he would be spending his time over the weekend, most likely having kinky sex, like a concerned mother of a teenage boy.

Dean pulled out his phone and immediately complied. As much as he hated it—he was a grown-ass man, after all, he could take care of himself—he begrudgingly admitted that having someone else know where he was going to be settled his nerves. He shivered at the thought of what would have happened, how long it would have lasted, if he hadn’t told Sammy where he was going that night; the _one time_ he’d shared such information with his little brother, and it turned out to save his life. This particular safety protocol was just one in a whole series of protocols he’s adopted in the last two years. He felt a little like his independence was compromised. After all, he was the one to take care of other people, not rely on others. He was not used to relying on others, let alone having someone in his life he felt he could rely on. Except for Sammy, of course. He could always count on his brother.

Speaking of, he couldn’t forget to call him before he went to bed.

“Done and done,” he said, putting his phone away. “Anything else, Mom?”

“Nah. Oh, except for a DNA sample,” she deadpanned. Laughing at the strange look he gave her, she relented. “HA! Just yankin’ your chain, Winchester. I already have it on file,” she smirked.

He wasn’t entirely sure if she was joking or not.

They said their goodbyes and he locked the doors after her. Setting the alarm system, he made his way to the bedroom to get ready for bed. He’d already packed a duffle for his trip, so he only had to do his evening routine. Once he settled in his room, he dialed Sam. It was only 11 p.m. his time, so he knew his little brother would be awake. Probably studying, the nerd.

_“Hey, Dean. Twice in one week? To what do I owe the privilege?”_

No matter his mood, good or bad, hearing his brother’s voice never failed to bring a smile to Dean’s face. “I, ah…I’m going away for the weekend. I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I’m doing the pre-trip check-in.” He waited for the inevitable inquisition.

_“Oh yeah? Where ya goin’?”_ There was no concern in his voice, just curiosity.

“Um, Chicago. Kind of a follow-up to the photo shoot.” He hoped Sam wouldn’t delve too deep; he really wasn’t relishing sharing the details of his encounter with Castiel twice in the same day. There was such a thing as too much sharing, after all.

_“Really? Why would you need to go to Chicago for the article?”_ And there was the tiniest note of concern Dean had been expecting.

“Yeah, so…maybe it has nothing to do with the actual article and more to do with, ah, the photographer. We kinda hit it off, so I’m going to visit him. I’ve taken all the precautions, Charlie knows all the details.”

_“So this guy really made an impression, hunh? Good for you. I’m glad you’re doing something for yourself for once. So what made you take notice?”_

“Well, besides the fact that he’s fuckin’ hot, there was intense chemistry right from the get go. Plus…um, he’s a Dom.” Dean paused, waiting for that to sink in, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

_“Wait, what? He’s a Dom? How’d you figure that out? How long did the shoot last?”_ Sam was incredulous, but waited patiently for his brother’s explanation.

“The shoot only lasted for a few hours, but we went to lunch after. There were some hints, enough to get us both curious. We ended up at The Roadhouse for drinks. We confirmed that night and agreed to pursue it. Not to get too touchy-feely here, but we had a long discussion about it. He knows about Alastair. And he didn’t run for the hills.”

_“Wow. That’s big. That’s great, man. When are you leaving?”_

“I’m heading out in the morning. I’ll be back Monday night. Look, Charlie already vetted him, even before he came for the shoot, so I know he’s clean. Seriously, just doing the check-in here. I’m not deliberately trying to keep things from you, I just don’t want to share a whole lot until I know if it’s going anywhere. ‘Kay?” Dean became a little nervous that his brother would start pushing him for details. Details that he either didn’t know or didn’t want to share just yet, if at all. He didn’t need to discuss his panty kink with his brother, for instance. Ever.

“ _Yeah, yeah, I hear ya man. Thanks for checking in, I really appreciate it. What time are you out?”_

Dean was thankful that his brother understood where he was coming from, and backed off. He didn’t used to be like that. He used to be a whiney bitch that was always trying to get Dean to share his feelings and talk about shit. After…after, he’d learned that Dean would no longer keep the important stuff to himself, so Sam stopped harassing him relentlessly about the smaller stuff. For a while there, Dean thought that Sammy would be the next Dr. Phil.

“I’ll be on the road by 8 a.m. It’s an eight hour drive, assuming refueling for machine and man, I figure I’ll get there somewhere between 5 and 6 p.m. I’ll text you and Charlie when I get there, per protocol. And yes, my GPS is on. Already got the Mom act from her.” Dean may be annoyed with how detailed these protocols are—just more rules to follow—but he understood  they were for his safety and his family’s sanity. He couldn’t put his family through that again. It also warmed his heart to know that they cared enough about him to make him stick to the plan. Though he’d deny it to his dying day.

_“Awesome. Keep me posted, yeah?”_

“Sure thing, little bro. Hey, look. I’m gonna hit the hay, ‘kay? Long drive and all that.”

_“Yeah, man. Safe drive, talk to you later.”_

“Later, Sammy.” With that, he ended the call.

After a brief pause, he texted goodnight to Castiel and expressed that he was excited to see him again. After a few minutes, Cas replied that he was equally excited. He also asked if Dean would like to go out for dinner and what his preference would be. Dean replied that he would enjoy whatever Cas came up with.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The drive was pretty uneventful. The rainy season wasn’t for at least a few weeks yet, so the weather was nice, and there was no construction for once in, well, forever. Dean had a group chat in his text app with Cas, Charlie, and Sam so that he could easily keep them all updated on his progress. He sometimes still balked, but mostly the checking in thing had become natural. The routine of it was somehow comforting.

Dean pulled up to Castiel’s studio at just around 5:30 p.m. He texted his siblings (blood and otherwise) to let them know he’d arrived, then grabbed his duffle and walked up to Cas’ building. As he was entering the building, his phone beeped with a notification. He paused to check it, smiling. It turned out it was an email from his doctor’s office. He opened the attachment to find his test results. A huge smile broke out on his face, and he continued into the building.

It was a nice building, in an industrial sort of way. It was kind of obvious that the building had been some sort of warehouse or manufacturing plant, but that gentrification had creeped in and made high-rent yuppie apartments. Cas had mentioned he had the entire top floor. If the outside of the building was any indication, the top floor was at least twice the size of Dean’s own warehouse. Which was sayin’ something.

Dean moved through the building, up to the fifth floor. He only saw one door, but he double checked that he had the right one before he knocked with purpose.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Castiel had been distracted all week. He had brief moments of clarity, such as when he edited and sent the final shots of the Winchester shoot to the editor. He was very pleased with the images of the installation at Wonderscope. He was even more pleased that the assignment was over. That meant he could move on with Dean, which made him very happy. As did the notification from his doctor this afternoon that his tests came back negative. It was also the main source of his distraction. Dean was going to show up at his door any moment, and he had no idea how to handle it.

Sure, he’d spent the week imagining any possible outcome for the weekend, all the things they could do, all the things Castiel wanted to show Dean. But he was also wary of going too fast. Given Dean’s traumatic past, he had to be careful. Which is why he’d decided that, even if they had sex, they would not scene this weekend. He was planning on taking him to see Victor and Pamela’s show, but that was as kinky as they would get. Hopefully, it would ease communication and give Castiel a better idea of what Dean’s likes and dislikes were. Even though they’d agreed to full disclosure, he was fairly certain he’d have to put his body language reading skills to the test.

He’d managed to make it through the week. He survived a family dinner and subsequent inquisition from Gabriel. His parents had been more excited about his weekend assignment than the upcoming gallery opening in August. It never failed to amaze him how their priorities were usually the exact opposite of his.

He’d spent some time in the studio planning out the upcoming shoot with Gilda. Rigging and ropes were checked and double checked, then laid out on the table he reserved for that purpose. He set up the white backdrop against one wall and made sure the windows opposite that wall were sparkling clean. Midday was very bright and beautiful in the studio, especially during the spring and summer months. He plotted out the cameras and lenses he would use and sketched the ties in his notebook. He’d had that notebook since Japan. Balthazar had purchased it for him. It was a custom handmade blank journal, and had the most beautiful Japanese silk cover. Most handbound books of this type were relatively small. But since it was a commission, and Baz had meant it for this purpose, it was actually fairly large. He could fit a nice sized image of a tie he wanted to create on each page, including notes for rope type and length, sequence of ties and knots, and estimations for length of time the model could hold the pose.

Most of the time, he had particular models in mind for each tie. It was easier for him to envision the whole thing if there was a specific face and body to go with it. He already had three sketches of Dean in the book. The remainder of his time was spent going through previous shoots to choose potential candidates for the gallery opening and making a soft plan for his time with Dean. He didn’t want to be too strict in the planning; he wanted to allow for improvisation, depending on Dean’s reactions to various activities.

When Friday evening arrived, he tried to busy himself making a nice dinner. He was only marginally successful, seeing as how he was a mediocre cook, at best. It was hard to go wrong with spaghetti and homemade meatballs. Especially when Anna made the meatballs and delivered them that afternoon. Any other time he would have attempted the recipe on his own. But tonight was special. He didn’t want to screw it up, and he hadn’t had time earlier in the week for a trial run.

By the time the knock at the door sounded, he was so nervous he practically jumped out of his skin. Taking a moment to steel his nerves, he opened the door to a vision of a man. _His_ man, if he played his cards right.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, green eyes sparkling. He was wearing faded jeans and a comfortable looking Henley. He carried a duffle and shifted from one foot to the other. Dean obviously had some pent-up energy as well. Castiel was glad he wasn’t the only one.

“Hello, Dean. Come on in.” He moved aside to allow the man entry. “How was the drive?”

Once the door was closed, he took Dean’s duffle and set it down on the floor. The hug that followed was tentative at first, then became more intense…more like long lost lovers that hadn’t seen each other in years. Castiel buried his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck, inhaling the masculine scent of old leather and motor oil. He didn’t detect any metallic notes, so Dean must not have been able to work in the studio much this past week. Castiel placed a light, chaste kiss just behind Dean’s ear as he pulled away, smiling inwardly at the slight shiver he received for his attentions.

“You know, eight hours in the car, a few pit stops here and there. Nothing exciting. Not even any construction to bitch about. How ‘bout you’? How was your day?” Dean toed off his boots and left them near the front door.

“Even more boring than that, I’m afraid. I spent the day cleaning the studio area and organizing the materials I’ll need for the shoot tomorrow. I’m excited that you get to watch. Gilda was very amenable to you watching. I must warn you, she can be a bit…cheeky. She likes to call herself a bratty rope bunny, and she certainly lives up to that moniker.” Castiel moved to the open concept kitchen area, gesturing for Dean to follow. “Would you like something to drink? Or would you like to rest a bit before dinner?”

“Nah, I don’t need to rest. I’m not a stranger to road trippin’ it. I’ll take a beer, though, if ya got it,” he said, sitting on one of the bar stools at the island that separated the kitchen from large dining area. “What’s on the menu tonight? I’m starving.”

“Spaghetti with meatballs, salad, and garlic bread. The salad is mostly for me, since I know you’re allergic to vegetables,” Castiel snarked. He retrieved two beers from the fridge, popped the tops with a bottle opener, and handed one to Dean. “Dinner will still be a few minutes. Would you like a tour?” He asked, taking a sip.

“Sure. This place is huge, man. Do you own the whole floor?” Dean got up off the stool and moved to follow Castiel.

“Yes, I do. It’s advantageous to have the top floor, as I only have to worry about the downstairs neighbors. Most of the building is filled with artists of one sort or another. Each floor, mine excluded, has only two or three spaces, so they are fairly large and make great studios. Not all of them have living spaces, like mine; some are strictly work spaces. The top floor used to be two units, but when I was looking for studio space the entire top floor was available. So, I purchased both and renovated to have a living space as well as my studio. Half the ground floor is empty right now, because that space is different from the others. This building used to be a manufacturing warehouse, so there are big bay doors just like at your place. Anyway, follow me.”

Castiel led Dean through the living area to his studio. The front door was right in the middle of what appeared to be the back wall. The rear of the building was all brick, but the front was all windows that were about two-thirds of the height of the walls. Which was impressive, since the walls had to be close to eighteen feet high. There were curtains at each window, opaque black and floor-to-ceiling. All the walls were painted bright white to take advantage of the natural light, but the brick was left in its natural state.

To the right of the entryway and set back a bit, was a wall that had been added during Castiel’s renovations. The wall was made out of reclaimed wood from old barns, so the planks were large and aged. In the middle was a huge sliding double door, like the kind you’d seen in a horse stable. Castiel opened one side and led Dean through.

The first thing people noticed when they saw the space was the large king-sized four-poster bed. The bed frame, posts, and top frame were all in sturdy black wrought iron. White gauzy curtains hung from each side of each post. The headboard was white and padded, and the pillows were a deep purple, the only splash of color in the room. The bed was in the far left corner, near the window and against the outside wall of the building. The color scheme of the rest of the floor continued in this room. The right-hand wall was brick, but there was a rail system the entire length (in fact, it went around both brick walls), along which Castiel could hang any color or pattern backdrop he wished for his shoots.

If one looked carefully, one could see the large eye hooks stemming from the ceiling at seemingly random intervals. There were also metal discs interspersed in the floor. They were flush with the wood floor he had installed, so would not cause any trouble with walking, mopping, etc. With a turn of a disc, it would pop open like a lid and reveal an anchor hook inside.

Along the near wall on the right, the barn wood wall, was a long narrow table, also made of reclaimed wood. Currently, the table was laden with various skeins of rope. Different sizes of rope, some skeins larger than others, and different colors. There were white and black ropes, and hot pink for this particular shoot. Also laid out were his cameras and such. Underneath the table was a mini-fridge containing apple juice, Gatorade, and water. There was a small cupboard next to the fridge which contained healthy snack type foods such as crackers, trail mix, granola bars, and protein bars.

Hung up on the left wood wall, all neat and orderly, was an assortment of bondage paraphernalia. Leather cuffs, metal cuffs, paddles of varying materials, riding crops, canes, several types of floggers, and more. It was by no means an extensive collection, but Castiel did incorporate bondage into his photo shoots sometimes, so he needed an array of implements. Scattered about the room were various lights on stands, modifiers, and power sources that could all be moved to where they were needed.

Dean whistled as he took it all in. “This is your studio? Man, this is awesome! Kinky, but awesome! What’s the bed for?” Dean waggled his eyebrows lewdly, smirking.

“I occasionally photograph a model on the bed, usually in some sort of restraints, sometimes with limbs hung from the crossbeams of the frame. Also, as I mentioned before, some of my models need a little bit of personal time after a shoot. This is a place they can be comfortable and recover from the shoot, however they need to. Come on, I’ll show you the rest after dinner.” He waited for Dean to exit the room and closed the door behind him.

The two men wandered back to the kitchen, where Castiel set about dishing up their meal. He pulled the salad out of the fridge and placed it on the dining table, along with the garlic bread he’d pulled from the oven. He turned back to the kitchen, but Dean was already on his way with their plates. The table was round, and the men chose to sit next to each other, rather than across.

The moan that erupted from Dean when he bit into a meatball was practically pornographic. Castiel wished he’d had the forethought to record it for replay when he and Dean weren’t able to be together. He could almost get off just from the sounds Dean made.

“Oh my God! These are delicious! They’re almost as good as Ellen’s!” Dean took another bite and his eyes fluttered closed, savoring the flavor.

“I wish I could take credit, but, um, my sister Anna made the meatballs and brought them over today. I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off…I’m not the best in the kitchen,” Castiel said, sheepishly. “I’m glad you like them though, I’ll let Anna know the next time I see her.”

As they continued eating, the two exchanged stories of their week. They already knew the bare basics, from their evening texting sessions, but learning the details that each man thought important enough to share also shed a little light on their personalities, helping them to get to know each other more.

Castiel shared about his awkward family dinner and Gabriel’s interrogation. Dean shared about movie night with Charlie, and how he thought Castiel and Charlie would get along really well. Dean also thought that he would get along with Sam—they were both bookworms, after all.

Once they were done with dinner, Castiel got another beer for Dean and told him to relax while he tidied up. Dean wandered over to the rest of the common area. Immediately to the right of the front door, as you walk in the place, was a sort of reading nook.  The corner was filled with bookshelves, each shelf stuffed full of books. There were medical texts, anatomy books, photography books, a few about Kinbaku, as well. Those were in Japanese. Dean expressed his awe, again that Castiel could speak Japanese. Castiel absolutely did not blush. There was a very comfortable, overstuffed easy chair and a side table in the nook as well, along with a reading lamp. It was very well used and was a place that Castiel spent a lot of his spare time.

Looking at the barn doors of the studio, the reading nook is on the right-hand side. To the left was a large poofy couch, one of those that has a chaise lounge at one end. A coffee table and easy chair rounded out the furniture, all facing the wood wall and a large screen TV mounted on the wall. All the media equipment was hidden away in a beautiful wood cabinet beneath the television.

When walking into Castiel’s home, the first thing you saw was the kitchen straight ahead and a little to the left. Beyond that was the dining area. The whole common area was open and inviting. Castiel could have one hell of a dinner party, if he was into that sort of thing. After he was done cleaning up, he walked over to Dean, who was perusing the titles on his bookshelves, and slipped his arms around the man’s waist from behind, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder. Any residual tension he may have had melted away as Dean relaxed into his arms, using his own arms to cover Castiel’s and humming in pleasure.

“Ready to see the rest?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, sure. Lead the way.”

Castiel took Dean’s hand and turned around toward the other end of the apartment. He picked up Dean’s duffle along the way and slung it over his shoulder as they passed the front door. Beyond the door was a hallway that immediately veered right, then left. After rounding the corner, he pointed out to Dean that the first room on the left was his office, followed by a guest bedroom. Straight in front of them was the guest bathroom, next to that laundry. Then came the master bedroom, taking up the entire corner of the floor. Next to that was a room with the door closed, which brought them full circle. Castiel did not say what that room was, and only replied with, “That’s for later,” when Dean inquired about it.

Castiel led Dean into the master bedroom and laughed when Dean stopped in his tracks, eyes wide and mouth open, clearly speechless.

“Wonderful, isn’t it? I like to be relaxed, and one of the things that helps is the view.”

Two of the walls were lined in windows, meeting in the corner of the building. The windows were the same as in the living area, two-thirds of the height of the walls, also with floor-to-ceiling curtains on either side. These were deep purple, however. Everything else was either wood, or white. A walk-in closet ran the length of the wall shared with the mystery room, and the master bath was in the left corner, sharing a wall with the laundry room.

The focal point was a king-sized bed made with white linens situated at an angle, coming off the corner with the windows. It was on a basic frame with no posts and the triangle of dead space behind the bed had been filled with a custom shelf that also acted as a headboard, of sorts. There were candles of all sizes on this shelf. At the foot of the bed was a white bench that had small decorative wings on the sides. The bench was, incidentally, the perfect height for kneeling on. Along the walls under the windows, on either side of the bed, were stacks and stacks of books. There was a bedside table buried in there somewhere, just the drawer visible—and clear to open.

“Wow, Cas. I can’t believe you live here! This is amazing! Did you design it all?” Dean was wandering around,  taking in all the details, including the artwork. Most of the art in the apartment was photographic, but there was a painting or two.

“I had a big hand in it, but no, not every detail was my idea. I worked with an architect that specializes in artist spaces, and my sister, Anna, is an interior designer. She knows my tastes and what my vision was for this place. I couldn’t have come up with all these ideas. For instance, I would have forgotten to include a laundry room. As it is, I don’t have a darkroom. I rarely use film anymore, and when I do I can use the facilities at the university to develop my own stuff. I teach a class there on staging and framing shots once a year, in the fall. As adjunct faculty, I can use the facilities for free.”

Castiel put Dean’s duffle on the floor in front of the closet, then went over to him and wound his arms around Dean again, this time placing his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m glad you like it. I want you to be as comfortable here as you are in your own home.” He nuzzled Dean’s chest a little bit when he felt his arms wrap around his back. “What would you like to do? I have a few movies, or we could go out and I can show you a little bit of Chicago. I would say we should go for drinks, but I don’t drink the night before a suspension shoot. Clear head and all.”

“Movie sounds great. What do you have?” Dean pulled back and grabbed Castiel’s hand, waiting for him to lead the way.

“Not much, I’m afraid. I have a few comedies, courtesy of Gabriel, and I have a few sci-fi ones. Also courtesy of Gabriel, although for a different reason. He gifted me those particular movies because they starred what Gabriel terms a ‘hot piece of ass’. It’s not that I don’t enjoy movies, as we’ve discussed. It’s that I generally don’t have time. Also, I grew up without movies and television, so it’s difficult for me to watch a lot of it.”

Dean raised his eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips, at the mention of Gabriel’s reasons for gifting Castiel movies with hot guys.

“Oh, this I gotta see. Show me.”

Castiel showed Dean where the movies were stored underneath the TV and let him browse. While Dean looked through his meager collection, Castiel went to the kitchen and got himself a big glass of water and another beer for Dean. He plopped on the couch and waited for Dean to make a selection.

“ _Hot Tub Time Machine, Spaceballs, Porkies—_ okay, that’s a good one— _Conan the Barbarian, Roadhouse—_ dude, Patrick Swayze always gets a pass— _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy,  now we’re talking! Mmmm, Viggo Mortensen. Okay, so your brother’s taste in movies doesn’t completely suck. Let’s watch _Fellowship_ , okay?” He pulled that disc out and waved it for Cas to approve.

“Sure, sounds great.” Yes, that sounds very good. Almost four hours of potential cuddle time with Dean. That sounded very nice indeed. He glanced at the clock and was pleased to see it was only 7 p.m. Plenty of time.

Dean popped the movie into the player and brought the remote over to Cas, who pressed all the appropriate buttons to make the entertainment system come to life. He settled in next to Cas, who had one arm along the back of the couch. Dean snuggled close and Castiel smiled and enjoyed the feeling.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Neither man talked about it, but they both felt that they should have felt a little awkward, at the very least, with how easy it was to step into the roles of a dating couple. That maybe they were going too fast. But neither of them felt that way. Instead, they both enjoyed the closeness of the other, the warmth of each other’s bodies, and the contentment that came with just letting go of their insecurities, even if just for a few hours.

After the first hour, Castiel’s hand wandered up Dean’s shoulder, grazed over his neck, and settled on the back of his head, fingers splaying through the short hair at the nape. The small hum and increased pressure on his hand were all that Castiel needed to know the touch was welcome, even enjoyed. The second hour brought Dean’s hand to Castiel’s upper thigh. Slowly, his fingers started tracing lazy figure eights along the inside seam of Castiel’s jeans, causing Castiel to tense ever so slightly, his fingers gripping at the hair they were carding through. Dean didn’t stop, though, and occasionally added in a full palm squeeze of the thigh. At the start of the third hour, Castiel had to relieve a full bladder.

While he was taking care of business, Dean got out his laptop and set it up on the kitchen table.

“Hey, what’s your Wi-Fi password?” Dean asked Castiel when he meandered back into the living area. Rather than tell him a long, complex hexadecimal sequence, he just went over to the laptop and typed it in from memory.

“Sorry, it’s a long one with secure encryption. I’m strict about internet security. My models may consent to having their picture taken, but they don’t consent to have those images stolen and splashed all around the internet.”

“Oh, dude, you don’t even know what paranoia is!” At Cas’s curious glance Dean continued, “Never mind. I don’t want to get into it now, that conversation is a buzzkill. Later, I promise,” he said, as he opened his email client and searched for something.. Once he found it, he opened up the attachment and swung the screen around for Cas to see.

Castiel smiled brightly when he saw Dean’s medical report. He looked at Dean questioningly and, indicating the laptop, said, “May I?”

“Go for it,” Dean responded, backing away a few steps while Cas logged into his Gmail account. He pulled up a similar email and moved the screen back over to Dean. Once he saw the details, he quipped, “Alright then. As Charlie would say, challenge completed! Let’s go finish the movie, ‘kay?” He grabbed Castiel’s hand and pulled him toward the couch.

The remainder of the movie was spent practically in each other’s laps. There were lazy kisses and caresses, murmured affirmations of how glad they were to see each other, and the occasional outright grope. Nothing was hurried, although the sexual tension was thick in the air. They just felt like taking their time to work each other up, to enjoy pulling new sounds out of each other. After, they were quiet as they went around shutting things off. The men moved around each other comfortably, as if they’d done this a hundred times before. They stole glances and brief touches in passing. This continued as they prepared for bed, brushing their teeth and such.

♢♦♢♦♢♦

When Dean finished in the bathroom, he moved into the bedroom proper, a little bounce in his step. He couldn’t wait for Cas to see his new acquisition. The sight that greeted him, however, made him stop in his tracks.

“Fuck…” he muttered softly.

Cas was kneeling on the bed with his back toward Dean, bent slightly at the waist and leaning over the shelf behind the bed, lighting the candles and wearing nothing but tight, forest green boxer briefs. Dean took a moment to admire the view. He knew Cas had a great ass, but this was a whole new way to appreciate it. Hopefully, soon, he would see it with no barriers…as delicious as the current view was.

When Cas was finished, he turned around and stopped. Dean was leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, watching him. In nothing but white lace panties.

“Holy shit…” It was Cas’ turn to mutter. “Dean—I—wow.” He sat down hard, dazed for a moment, before patting the bed next to him.

“See something you like, Sir?” Dean couldn’t help but smirk at the gasp the endearment garnered. It put a little pep in his step as he sauntered over to Cas.  He stopped at the end of the bed, waiting for a response.

“Come here, Dean.” It was an order, not a request.

Didn’t mean Dean had to make it easy. With a heated look, he moved onto the bed on his hands and knees, ever so slowly crawling toward Cas. Stalking him, like he was the hunter and Cas was the prey.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Cas muttered as Dean stalked up his body, until they were face to face and breathing each other’s air. They stayed there, hanging in limbo, for what seemed like forever. All of a sudden, Dean was flat on his back with Cas hovering over top.

“Damn, Cas, you’re stronger than you look,” Dean panted.

“Well, I do hang people from the rafters on a regular basis, Dean.” He slipped in between Dean’s legs and groaned as their bodies aligned like they were made for each other.  His hands traveled the length of the man underneath him, over his chest to his side, lingering at his pelvis, then continuing around to squeeze the absolutely perfect ass cheek before hiking up his thigh up. Dean took the cue and wrapped both legs around Castiel, arching up into him.

“Fuck, I can’t believe how hot that is.” He trailed kisses and nips along Castiel’s chiseled jawline, down his neck, resting on his collar bone. “God, Cas, you feel so good. Need you, need to feel you.”

Hands roaming, squeezing, exploring. Lips tasting, tongue tracing slick trails on hot skin, followed by cooling breaths panted out. Bodies writhing, sliding together, sweet friction building a slow fire. As much as they both enjoyed each other’s choice of undergarments, they silently agreed they were in the way. In no time, there were no barriers, just skin on skin, slicked by sweat and pre-come. Kisses became frantic, teeth were involved. Dean’s hands grappled at Castiel’s ass, kneading and squeezing, pulling him in closer with every pass. The air was filled with shallow breaths, grunts, moans.

Castiel reached a hand down between them and grasped both cocks together, thrusting as if he were inside Dean. The slide of velvety hard flesh, squelching noises getting louder as both men leaked like teenagers, their voices a song of lust and passion filling the room.

“Dean, _fuck_ …I want to be inside you, to feel you all around me.” He continued thrusting into his hand and against Dean, never faltering.

“I want that, too, Cas, but later. I’m too close right now to stop for prep. Please, Cas, need to come. _Pleeease!_ ”

“God, you’re beautiful like this. So good for me, asking so nicely.”

He buried his face in Dean’s neck, breathing in the man’s scent and surrounding himself with it. He licked and nipped his way around and, just as he was cresting that burning threshold, bit down into the space where shoulder meets neck. It wasn’t enough to break the skin, but it would bruise. And it was enough to put both men over the edge. Dean came with a shout, arching up into Castiel who was working him through the aftershocks when his own orgasm tore through him. Dean’s hands never stopped roaming all over Castiel’s back, grounding them both in the here and now.

They lay like that, not moving, waiting as their breathing came down to a more normal level, before Castiel rolled off Dean.

“Holy shit. That was…wow.” Dean was staring at the ceiling, trying to get a grip on himself.

He wasn’t quite flying, not truly, but he was feeling a bit floaty, and he savored it. He trailed a finger through the puddle of mixed come on his belly and brought it to his mouth, licking it off carefully. Apparently that was the right thing to do because Cas growled low, and trailed his own finger through the mess before feeding it to Dean, who hummed around Cas’ finger. Slowly, Cas repeated the movement until the mess had been mostly cleaned up. To get the remnants, he used his own tongue, licking Dean’s cock and belly like a cat cleaning themselves, long and slow.

When he was done cleaning them both, Cas reached behind himself for the remote that lay on the shelf. With a press of a button, automated shades lowered themselves at each window. He then found the candle snuffer and doused all the candles. After pulling up the covers, he settled down and pulled Dean towards him.

“Sleep. We have a full day tomorrow.” Cas lay on his back as Dean curled up into him, his head resting on Cas’ chest and his arm draped over the man’s middle, while Cas’ arms were wrapped around Dean.

Okay. So maybe Dean snuggled a little bit.


	10. Chapter 9 I'm Ready For My Close Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for NSFW links.

Morning brought with it new sensations for Dean. As consciousness slowly crept over him, he became aware of heat and pressure at his back and the feeling of being wrapped up and kept safe. He was aware of being held, of deep regular breaths in the air that were not his own, of the rising and falling of the chest pressed against his back. Blinking his eyes open against the grittiness of sleep, he took in his surroundings. Dean had the briefest moment of panic when he realized he was not in his own bed, but quickly tamped that down with the knowledge that he wouldn’t feel so safe if he had been taken again. There was no fear, only warmth, and he smiled a little bit at this. Not wanting to give the feeling up just yet, he lay perfectly still…even though he wanted to burrow further into the arms of the man holding him so dearly.

The sun was shining through the shades. Dean decided he liked the shades. They were not opaque—he could see the city skyline highlighted by the rising sun—but they afforded privacy and reduced the glare of the sunlight by about half. It was a nice compromise, if you liked being woken up with the sun. Dean did not mind at all, especially since he could enjoy the view before him at the same time as enjoying the arm wrapped around him. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scents of the room. The candles were scented and had filled the air with a fragrance of vanilla and lavender. Dean could also smell the paper from all the books stacked near the bed, giving off a library vibe. Then there was the distinct smell of Cas on the bed linens. He smelled of citrus and bergamot, and a deeper, more earthy tone that was just Cas. Dean turned his nose into the pillow and breathed deeply.

He could feel the arm at his waist tighten a little, then move up his chest to pull him closer. He went easily and eagerly.

“Good morning,” Cas mumbled against his shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mornin’. Yeah, I did. That was the first time in a very long time that I slept through the whole night.” Dean turned his head to be able to get a good morning kiss from Castiel. He laughed when he saw Cas’ face and hair. He didn’t think that Cas’ hair could get any more crazy, but apparently it could. And even though his voice was pleasant, his face looked as if the morning was a personal affront to him. 

“Not a morning person, Cas?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“Not until I’ve had coffee, no.” Cas glanced over at the bedside table to see what time it was. He groaned when he saw that it was only quarter to seven. He snuggled closer to Dean, curling his body around him.

Dean groaned a little when he felt Cas’ erection just barely rutting into his backside. His arm came up and back, planting his hand on Cas’ butt cheek. He squeezed and grabbed at the flesh, using it as leverage to grind back into the man’s lap, eliciting a sinful moan from his Dom. 

_ His Dom. _ Cas was his Dom. That thought brought butterflies to his stomach and stoked a heat in his belly.

Castiel gripped Dean’s hip tightly and nestled his face into the nape of Dean’s neck, mouthing at the skin there. Dean responded by stretching his neck out to bare more room for Cas to explore. At the same time, he rolled his ass in a particularly hard, dirty stroke against Castiel’s dick. Dean felt the pre-cum leaking onto his cheeks and sighed, pleased that the man behind him was hard and leaking because of him.

Castiel reached down and stroked himself a few times to spread the slick liquid all along his shaft, before guiding it between Dean’s thighs. Dean caught on and clenched his thighs as close together as possible. Cas set a slow, sensual rhythm that had the head of his cock rubbing against Dean’s perineum and the underside of his ball sac.

“Oh, God, Cas, that feels...that feels awesome,” Dean said through gritted teeth. His cock was not being stimulated directly, but the familiar need was making itself known anyway. He gasped when he felt Cas’ teeth graze the sensitive spot just behind his ear. “Nng, yes, teeth…teeth are good,” he moaned.

“God, you’re amazing, Dean. You have no idea what you do to me, I just can’t get enough of you.” His thrusts came faster, hips snapping in a rhythm that promised a good hard fuck later. Cas’ hand roamed from Dean’s hip, over his belly, and up his torso to the erect nipples.

“Mmmm, fuck,” Dean said, the stimulation getting him close to his climax. “Just like that, Cas, shit.”

“Are you going to come for me, Dean?” Cas asked in a low growl, lips grazing Dean’s ear. “Can you come untouched, like you made me come untouched last week? You know, that was the first time that ever happened to me. Just for you, Dean, because of you.” All at once, Cas pinched Dean’s nipple hard and sank his teeth into his neck. The words combined with the pleasure-pain pushed Dean over the edge; he came hard and long.

The feel of Dean’s groin spasming in release was just the thing Cas needed to follow, grunting, “Dean” loudly. They lay there, panting, basking in the afterglow for several minutes. 

“We should get cleaned up. I don’t relish the idea of being glued together with dried come.” Castiel made  a disappointed noise at the loss of contact with his lover when he went to the bathroom and got  a warm, wet washcloth from the bathroom, before cleaning Dean up, then himself. 

“Come on, get up lazybones. I normally run on Saturday mornings, if I’m home, but I’m going to do some yoga. It centers me and I need to be able to focus for the shoot today. You can either take a shower while I do that, or you can join me.” 

He moved over to the rather large cushy throw rug in the middle of the room and started with salutation.

Dean took a few moments to admire Castiel’s lithe, naked form stretching into different poses of increasing difficulty. He walked over to the bathroom to take a shower, nearly running into the doorframe after a quick peek back at the older man. Cas was bent over in half, hugging his legs. Dean’s dick gave a valiant twitch at the sight, not to mention the flexibility. He idly wondered if Cas ever bottomed. 

Shaking himself out of his little fantasy, he continued into the bathroom where he almost had another orgasm from the water pressure alone in the shower.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The men went about their morning routine, both relishing the domesticity of it. Neither had had it for a very long time, and neither would admit that they missed it. Both dressed comfortably; Dean in worn jeans and a grey Henley, and Cas in a plain black t-shirt and black cargo yoga pants. Breakfast consisted of coffee and eggs, bacon, and toast, with fruit for Castiel.

After cleaning the breakfast dishes, they whiled away the morning with Dean watching Cas as he checked and double checked his equipment. While he went about his checks (Cas was a stickler for safety), he gave Dean an overview of what would happen.

“Gilda has been a model for me for three years. She’s a dancer, so she’s great for shots where she looks like she’s either falling or flying. We are going to be doing multiple ties today and the shoot should last anywhere from two to three hours. She also requires about an hour to come down, during which we will go into my office. I will want to take a quick look at the images to make sure I’m happy with them, and don’t need to do any more before she leaves.” Castiel picked up a small remote and pressed a button, the loft filling with classical music at a low volume.

There was a knock at the door, effectively ending the conversation.

“Hello, Gilda,” Castiel said as he opened the door. “How are you today?” He opened the door wide enough for Gilda and her sister, Emmy, to walk through. Gilda had a small duffle over her shoulder, her long blond hair was down in loose curls, and she was wearing light sweats.

“Hey there, Rope Daddy, how’s it hangin’?” Gilda flounced by with a smirk on her face, clearly pleased with herself and her joke.

“Gilda, you know I do not like it when you call me that. If you must refer to me by something other than my name, please use Sir or Bakushi.” This was not the first time they’d had this discussion, and Castiel had no illusions that it would be the last. But he did not care for the moniker of Daddy, and he was not her Dom.

“Fine…Sir.” She winked at Castiel and tossed her bag by one of the large windows. “How do you want me today?” She turned to face him, her hands on her hips.

“You know the drill, Gilda,” he told her, irritated that he had to repeat himself.

“Do we really have to go through all of that every time, Castiel? We’ve been doing this for three years now. We are both very familiar with the routine.” Gilda sat down on the floor and began stretching.

“Yes, we are both very familiar with the routine. There is a routine for a reason. It is to ensure the safety of everyone involved.” Castiel walked over to where Dean was sitting in an easy chair and indicated for him to stand up. “First things first. Gilda, this is Dean Winchester. I told you about him on the phone. He is here to observe only. Are you okay with that?”

“Nice to meet you, Dean,” she said, as she walked over and shook his hand. “Learning how to be a rope bottom, hunh?” She looked him up and down appreciatively.

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m still trying to figure all this out. I’ve been tied up before, but nothing on this scale. How long have you been doing this?” Gilda’s hand had lingered a bit long with the handshake, and Dean was getting visibly nervous. He took his hand back and shoved both in the pockets of his jeans, stepping back a few paces.

“Well, I’ve been a sub for five years, but I’ve been working with Castiel for three years. We get together about five or six times a year. I get tied up and he gets pictures.” She shrugged her shoulders and went back to stretching.

“Gilda is a principal dancer with Hubbard Street Dance, here in Chicago. We work to display her strength and flexibility. Now,” he said, turning to Gilda, “let’s go through the check list.”

She heaved a big sigh and said, “If we must. My last meal was four hours ago, I had a full night’s sleep, I have not had alcohol for over a week, and I have no new injuries, physical or emotional. My sister is here to care for me, as usual. You already know my triggers, I have no new ones, and you know my aftercare needs. Anything else?”

“What’s your safeword.”

“Oh, yeah. Oz. My safeword is Oz, but I also use the stoplight for slowing down if necessary.”

“Okay, wonderful. How are you feeling about marks today? No marks, marks that may last a day or two, or a few weeks? I know permanent marks are out, but I don’t do those anyway.” He waited patiently for her answer.

“I’ve got the next ten days off, so rope marks and bruises are okay. Those should fade by the time I have to get back to rehearsals. Especially if I get some pictures of them,” she said, with a wicked grin on her face. Gilda loved to see her body with rope marks on it, so Castiel always took some pictures of them after she was out of the ropes for Gilda’s personal collection, as part of her compensation.

“Understood. Did you bring the hot pink tutu and pointe shoes? Wonderful. You know where the bathroom is, please go and change if you are ready.” Gilda took her duffle and skipped down the hallway to the bathroom.

Castiel turned to Emmy and reached out his hand to shake. “Emmy, it’s wonderful to see you again. Are you doing well today? Are you ready to meet Gilda’s needs after the shoot?”

“Thank you, it’s great to be here. Yes, I’m doing very well and I am fully capable of taking care of Gilda’s smart ass after the shoot,” Emmy returned, laughing.

“Thank you, Emmy. She’s going to be a handful today, isn’t she? More so than usual, I have a feeling.” With that, he turned to Dean and walked a little bit away, indicating he wanted a private word.

“Are you doing well, so far?” Getting an affirmative nod from Dean, he continued. He stopped and turned around once he reached the entrance to the kitchen. “I wanted to check in with you about how today is going to go. I told you a little bit, but with Gilda her attitude shapes the way a shoot goes.” He sighed and pulled Dean toward him. “She is particularly mouthy today, which is going to require a strong hand on my part. She does it on purpose, to get under my skin and make for a more intense experience,” he said wryly. “If she wants, she can tell you why she does this; it’s not my place to say. But I want you to be aware that she will end up nude and I may end up spanking her, depending on how much she back-talks,” he continued, rubbing his hands up and down Dean’s arms. “I want you to know that I am not her Dom. Anything I do today is to make sure it is a pleasant experience for her, and to get the shots I need for this series. There will be no sexual activity, and she knows this. She will push the boundaries, however, so please be aware of this. Are you okay with that?” He looked Dean straight in the eye to gauge his reaction, which seemed to be accepting and curious.

“Yeah, Cas, it all sounds great. What do you want me to do?” Castiel could feel Dean’s excitement radiating off him as he led him to the studio entrance.

“See that big armchair against the wall there? When it comes time to start, you will sit over there and not move for the entire shoot. You will remain quiet. Save any questions for after. I suggest you use the restroom before we start. Emmy will be sitting next to you, but please, no conversation once we’ve started. Is that clear?” He waited for the appropriate response from Dean, then reached up to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, Dean,” he finished, smiling at the younger man, giving him a brief but unhurried kiss.

Dean’s hand came up and rested on top of Cas’. “Me too, Cas.” The smile that Dean flashed melted Castiel’s heart.

“Come on, let’s get started.” Cas turned around and walked into the studio, followed by Gilda and Dean. Dean took his seat as instructed, smiling at Emmy as he did so.

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Dean was nervous and excited at the same time. He felt like he was going to vibrate right out of his skin. Fearing he might do something impulsive, he started the meditative breathing that his therapist, Missouri, had taught him. It wouldn’t put him out or anything, but relax him enough to regain control. He used Castiel’s voice as a ground, a focal point to keep him in the present, as he watched events unfolding before him.

“Are you ready, Gilda?” Cas asked, his voice calm and soothing.

“Yes, Sir, I am.” Gilda was wearing hot pink pointe shoes and a hot pink mini tutu with a black bow on the front. At Castiel’s request, she removed her tank top and threw it at Dean with a wink, hitting him in the face with the garment.

Dean could see Cas’ jaw working, but he didn’t say anything. He was curious to see how far Gilda would go to push his Dom’s buttons, and how Cas would react.

Cas turned to the table with all his ropes and grabbed a hank of hot pink hemp, loosening the coils as he walked back to Gilda. “Gilda,” Cas said, waiting patiently until he had her undivided attention. When she looked him in the eye, he pulled out a pair of EMT shears from the cargo pocket of his pants and showed them to her. She nodded and he returned the shears to his pocket. “Please stand with your arms raised.” He found the middle of the rope and set a bight just under and between her breasts. He continued to work the rope around her torso several times, both above and below her breasts, creating a sort of harness. “We will be doing several poses today. If at any time you are uncomfortable or need to stop for any reason, please use your safeword.” As he said it, he looked at her face.

Dean could practically see the transformation in her as it washed over her. As soon as the rope touched her body she visibly relaxed. The tighter Cas pulled the ropes, and the more they constricted her breasts, the more Gilda’s breathing increased, and her eyes glazed over a bit. She was still there, but seemed to be in a very happy place.

“Stay here,” Cas commanded, as he brought over a step ladder with four steps on it. He used the ladder to reach high up, looping the ends of the rope through the rather large metal ring hanging down from the ceiling. Getting down from the stool, he moved that out of the way and addressed Gilda again. “I’m going to pull the rope taut enough to hold you  _ en pointe _ . Your upper torso will be the weight-bearing point and I want you to allow your upper body to fall backward, as if you’ve fainted. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna hang me like I’ve fainted, and the rope caught me.” She had a glint in her eye that could only mean trouble. Apparently, she wasn’t very far into subspace after all.

“Essentially, yes,” he said as he stepped back, towards one wall. Once he reached the wall, Dean noticed that there was an eye hook anchored into the wall, about five feet up. Cas began pulling the rope taught and threading it through the eye hook. As it pulled on Gilda, she gasped just the tiniest bit at the tug and pull of the rope. She went  _ en pointe _ for Castiel to know how tight to pull the ropes, and leaned back in the pose he wished for her. After another minute of him adjusting the rope and her height, he tied the rope off on the hook with what Dean recognized as a sturdy yet quick-release knot. Gilda sighed into the [position](http://www.sexualdarkage.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/rope-bondage-ballerina.jpg) and went lax.

“How long, Gilda,” Cas intoned, voice firm yet calm.

“Mmmmm, this feels nice, Castiel, ten minutes at least.” Her voice sounded far away. Dean wondered what she was feeling in this particular moment. Was she happy? Was she horney? Was she about to float away?

While Dean was contemplating Gilda’s feelings—which, weird—Cas retrieved his camera and started taking pictures of her.

“Good job, Gilda, so beautiful. Arch your neck just a bit more…excellent, just like that. Such a good girl.” 

Cas  spent the next several minutes taking photos. Occasionally he would touch her, but it was nothing if not chaste. He shoved one shoulder back, used one finger to adjust the profile of her face to best catch the light. Occasionally, he would turn her around to get a different angle but keep the backdrop the same. Once he seemed satisfied with the shots he got, Castiel replaced his camera on the table. Moving over to the wall, he grabbed the rope above the hook with one hand and released the knot with the other hand.

“You may come down, Gilda,” Castiel said, giving the dancer some slack in the rope.

She came down on her feet and raised her head. Her eyes were closed, but Dean could see how relaxed she was. He wondered if he would feel that good when Cas tied him.

“On your knees, Gilda,” Cas ordered, gently, giving her the necessary slack in the rope.

Gilda smirked and licked her lips as she went down, slowly, to assume the position. “Why, Castiel. I had no idea you wanted that. You should have said something ages ago.” Her voice was low and sultry. Dean was sure that it would have affected Cas. If he liked women. He smiled inwardly at the knowledge that it wouldn’t affect Cas, while at the same time having to squirm just the smallest amount because it sure as hell affected him!

Dean’s attention was brought back to focus with Castiel’s voice, ordering the dancer to place her forehead on the floor and press her arms together, straight, behind her back. He removed the excess rope from the ring above them and laid it to the side. He picked up a smaller hank of rope from the table and, after considering her for a moment, started to bind her arms together at the biceps, elbows, and wrists. He tested each spot for tightness and mobility.

“How long can you do the splits, Gilda?” Castiel asked quietly.

“Front to back or side to side?”

“Side to side,” came the answer.

“Almost indefinitely. I’ve fallen asleep while doing my cool down stretch before. With my arms like this, probably twenty minutes?” It sounded like a question to Dean, and Cas picked up on that.

“Is that a guess, or your answer? I don’t deal in ambiguities, Gilda.” Castiel’s voice was gentle, but stern. It was starting to become clear that he was working hard to keep control of his Dom tendencies.

“Twenty minutes. Sir.” Dean could detect the mirth in her voice and wondered which button she’d push next. The interaction between the two was just as intriguing as the actual reason they were all there.

“Very good, thank you.” Castiel moved over to a corner and retrieved a long bamboo staff.  He moved behind Gilda and said, “Splits, Gilda, now.” She promptly obeyed and Dean did not miss the small smile that briefly graced his Dom’s face. “Very nice, Gilda. I’m going to put this bamboo staff along your legs and I’m going to tie it to them. Then I’m going to hoist you up. Normally, the staff would be lashed between two posts to keep it steady. But I think you’re strong enough to leave it suspended, don’t you?” His voice may have feigned innocence, but Dean delighted in the wink Cas through his way, where Gilda could not see.

“I’m willing to try, Sir,” was his only answer. Obviously, it was the right one, as Cas went about fulfilling his promise.

As Castiel placed the staff along her outstretched legs, Gilda began bouncing her ass up and down.  Dean couldn’t help the snort that escaped him as he tried to hold back his laughter. Looking over at Emmy, she was no better off, face red and hand locked around her mouth.

“Gilda. I would appreciate it if you would stop twerking on my staff,” he deadpanned.

Dean just about died. He almost had to leave the room, but was just able to get control of himself. Emmy was not as successful, and had to leave the room briefly. 

“I would appreciate being able to get at least a few shots of this tie without your ass being flogged red.”

Dean bit down on his knuckle to stifle a moan as he heard one emanate from where Gilda lay on the floor. Apparently, she liked the idea of being flogged red. So did Dean. He hoped he would be able to witness that treat.

By the time Castiel hoisted Gilda into the air, [her legs were bound to the bamboo staff while in the splits, the rope around her chest had been brought to her back to serve as a harness and anchor point, and her arms were bound behind her](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/buffenator/8539366/1237/1237_original.jpg). All in all, it looked very uncomfortable to Dean.

Castiel repeated his question of how long as he retrieved his camera. After getting Gilda’s answer of ten minutes, he started snapping photos.  After confirming with her that it was okay, he used his safety scissors and cut away the tutu. She was left naked, except for her hot pink pointe shoes, tied to a bamboo staff and suspended.

Dean thought he hadn’t seen anything that beautiful in a long time. Castiel was certainly an artist, and Gilda’s strength and flexibility were to be envied. Dean knew he could never be tied in that position, he wasn’t that flexible. But it left him wondering what similar positions he could be manipulated into. And what other purposes such positions would have.

“Are you gonna spank me, Daddy?” Gilda’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts as she wiggled her body as much as she could, sending herself swaying a little bit.

Without a word, Castiel moved over to the wall where all the pain instruments were mounted. He selected a generic leather flogger and strode quickly back over to Gilda. He wasted no time in delivering four quick lashes to her backside. 

“If you insist on calling me that despicable name, I will have to insist on a punishment that you will not find pleasant. Are we clear, Miss Hill?” The warning was clear to everyone present.

“Yes, Sir. Please…” she punched out breathlessly.

“Please what, Gilda?” Cas leaned over to look her in the eye, raising her gaze to his with a single finger lifting her chin.

“More, Sir. Please, more.”

“As much as I would love to have some pictures of your ass and legs cherry red from a flogging, you would enjoy that too much. Your punishment today is that you don’t get your spanking.” He moved to place the flogger on the table and grabbed his camera, getting a few good shots of the dancer and her slightly pink backside.

Dean’s brain short-circuited at that point, and he barely registered the last two positions Cas moved Gilda into as thoughts of Cas flogging his ass red took over. Before he knew it, she was on the floor, breathing heavily, with a robe draped over her. A nod from Castiel let Emmy know it was her turn, and she moved over to her sister, murmuring soft praise into the dancer’s ear.

Dean watched, enraptured, for a few moments before the sound of Cas clearing his throat interrupted his thoughts. Looking up at his boyfriend, Dean saw that Cas was indicating for them to leave. He followed Cas into the living area and watched as he  closed the studio door as quietly as he could.

“Follow me,” Castiel said, leading the way to his office.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Closing the office door behind them, Castiel calmly walked over to his desk and set down the camera. He turned to Dean and, making sure not to crowd the man, said, “How are you feeling, Dean? Do you have any questions?”

Dean, still sporting a dazed look, wiped his hand down his face. “I, uh. Yeah, I’m good, Cas. I’m good. Hunh? What was the question?” Dean turned to look at Castiel, a confused look on his face, causing the Dom to chuckle lightly.

“I take it you enjoyed the afternoon, then?” Castiel received a nod in the affirmative and replied, “Good, I’m glad. Tell me,” he continued, while sitting at his desk and loading the camera’s memory card into his laptop and bringing up the day’s images, “what was your favorite part?” He wasn’t looking at Dean, was, in fact, waiting for the pictures to load on the screen in front of him. But all his senses were tuned to the sub, trying to gauge his reaction to the afternoon’s events.

“Um, well. I kept wondering what it would be like to be tied like that. I’m nowhere near that flexible though, so it led to me wondering what positions you would tie me in. And fuck me in,” Dean replied, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I liked the way the rope looked against her skin. I could see that it dug in a little, but it wasn’t cutting off her circulation or anything like that. And she obviously enjoyed it. I could tell when she slipped into subspace, even if she was still mouthy.”

“That’s Gilda,” Castiel sighed. “ Sometimes, the farther down she goes, the more mouthy she gets. This was not her mouthiest, but it was close. She knows I detest the nickname Daddy, and she usually obeys when I tell her not to use it,” his exasperation showing through. “I think she was showing off for her audience today. And, as much as I would have loved to spank her raw for the shoot, she would have enjoyed it too much. I did not want to reward her behavior. Still, I think I got some good shots. Want to see?” He moved his chair a little so Dean could stand next to him while he scrolled through the images.

“Wow, Cas. Those are awesome. I can’t decide which part I like best…the Kinbaku or the photography.” The awe in Dean’s voice was palpable, and Castiel preened under the compliment. Enough people lauded his photography, but not many people voiced their appreciation for his chosen subject matter. Really, only people in the lifestyle seemed to appreciate it. But they were a very loyal and supportive bunch. Thankfully, it was enough to keep him going. Otherwise, he’d have given up long ago and considered going back to medicine. He shuddered at the thought and shook it off.

After printing some color images of the rope marks on Gilda’s body, he looked at the clock. An hour had passed, so it was safe to leave his office. They went out into the kitchen area and he poured some coffee for each of them. Knocking on the studio door, he said, “Gilda? Emmy? How are we doing?”

“Come in, Castiel, we’re good,” came Emmy’s voice. “Did you get the shots you needed?” she asked when he came into the room. Gilda was dressed in sweats and was curled up against her sister’s side on the big armchair, nursing a bottle of orange juice.

“For the most part, yes. I would have preferred to get some pictures after a hefty spanking, but it had not been in my original plan anyway. Gilda,” he said, turning his gaze to the dancer, “I  _ must _ insist that you not call me by that name. If you continue, I will have to find another model. And I do not wish to find another model. Are we clear?”

Gilda turned red and stammered, “Yes, Castiel, we’re clear. I’m sorry, Sir. I won’t do it again. I’ll be good.” She buried her face in her sister’s shoulder, her remorse clear. 

They went through this almost every shoot, but Castiel had hopes that one day she’d actually behave. “I know you will be, thank you. I do not have a date yet for another shoot, but I will let you know when the show is. Here, I printed you some pictures of the marks. Your check is also there.” He handed her the stack of photos with a plain white envelope on top.

Gilda took them eagerly, handed the envelope to Emmy as an afterthought, and flipped through the images. “Ooooh, I like these! Thank you!” She extracted herself from the overstuffed armchair and gave Castiel a hug. With a quiet voice she said, almost timidly, “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to push so hard today. I had a bad week and I brought it here, and I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s okay that you needed the rope today, Gilda. That’s one of the reasons our arrangement is so mutually beneficial. And, as a self-proclaimed brat, I expect that you will act out to some degree.  But I will not tolerate that name. Ever.” He kissed her on the forehead in a comforting gesture, and hugged her again. “I’m sorry you had a bad week. Is it better now?” She nodded yes and went back to her sister with a small smile.

Emmy smiled at Castiel, showing her gratitude that he was so understanding and knew how to handle her sister. Castiel knew that not many could—Gilda was a force of nature. The ropes grounded her and kept her temper in check.

Once Gilda and Emmy left, Castiel set about cleaning up the studio. He inspected each length of rope for stress and cleanliness, coiling them and knotting them for storage. He methodically wiped down each surface and tool he used, and mopped the floor, as well. A little over an hour later, he shut off the lights to the studio and closed the door. He found Dean curled up on the couch with a book, asleep. An unfamiliar feeling overcame Castiel as he stood there, watching him sleep. He was pleased that Dean felt comfortable enough in his home to drift off like that, and thought that it was something he could get very used to.

There was still some time before Castiel planned on leaving for their evening festivities, so he went to his office and started going through his new images with his editing program, not wanting to wake his lover from his rest.


	11. Chapter 10 The Velvet Underground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW links

“Yes, Gabriel, the shoot went well. I believe I obtained all the images I set out to, despite the fact that she was particularly difficult today.”

Dean woke to the whispered half-conversation going on in the kitchen. He allowed his body to wake naturally, not really eavesdropping but not actively ignoring it, either.

“Yes, he’s still here. He did very well, and no, he didn’t go running. Did you really think that he would drive almost nine hours to observe the shoot and then run for the hills, as you put it? He knew what he was in for.”

Dean decided to remain where he was. He had a little bit of an internal debate on the subject. On the one hand, it certainly felt like eavesdropping to just stay silent. On the other hand, if Cas wanted to keep the conversation private, he would have stayed in a different room.

“No, we’re going to The Velvet Underground tonight. Victor and Pamela are giving a demonstration and they invited me to document. I thought it would be good for Dean to see the other aspects of being tied.” There was a pause while Castiel listened to his brother. “He has expressed interest, yes. And that’s all I’m saying on the subject. The purpose of this call, if you’ll remember, was to tell you the shoot went well. I only have two more to go to get all the images I’ve planned for the show in August.” Another pause. “No, we currently have no plans for tomorrow. I thought I might show Dean some of the city. He leaves on Monday.”

Dean started stretching out on the couch, silently letting Cas know he was awake. He was honestly surprised that he fell asleep. He was not normally a nap person, and certainly not in someone else’s place. It kinda freaked him out a little at how safe he felt with Cas.

“I’ll ask. Gabe, I have to go. I’ll let you know, okay? Yeah, will do. Have a good night, Gabriel.”

Dean tossed back the light blanket that had been placed over his shoulders and stood up. “Your brother being obnoxious again?” he inquired, walking over to the kitchen to greet Cas.

“Only mildly so. He never misses an opportunity to make bondage jokes,” Cas said, with a sigh, as if getting teased about bondage by your brother was the most common thing in the world. Then again, Dean had no room to talk, having an annoying brother of his own and said brother knowing his proclivities.

“Join the club, Cas, join the club.” He leaned against the counter a few feet away from Cas. He’d wanted to give Cas a kiss, but wasn’t sure if it would be wanted or not.  So he compromised by not touching, but parking himself within grabbing distance, if that was what Cas wanted.

Which, apparently, it was. Castiel reached out a hand and hooked a finger in a belt loop of Dean’s jeans, pulling the younger man closer. Dean went willingly and buried his face in Cas’ neck, inhaling the comforting scent that was his lover.

“Are you hungry?” Castiel asked, wrapping his arms around Dean.

“Yeah, I could go for a bite. What’s the plan, again?” He sank further into Cas’ embrace, relishing the feeling of  _ safe _ and  _ warm _ .

“Well, as I’ve told you before, Victor and Pamela are having a demonstration this evening at the club at 9 p.m. That gives us enough time to change and go out to dinner. Then we’ll head on over to the club. Does that sound alright to you?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” Dean could not help the little bit of nervousness that came through at the mention of going to the club. He hadn’t been to one in two years. 

While, logically, he knew that most clubs were safe, even Purgatory, he had met Alastair at Purgatory and had been convinced to leave the premises. Again, logically, he knew he’d be with Cas, and he knew he wasn’t going to go home with anyone else. But it still made him nervous. This was something he needed to do, though. It was actually one of the steps that his therapist had given him. Go back to a club. Didn’t have to be Purgatory, at least not yet, but getting back into the scene was supposed to be a huge step in getting past what happened to him.

Casl must have picked up on his nerves. He pulled away from Dean and looked him in the eye. “Hey, you okay? We don’t have to go if you’re not sure.” 

The concern in his eyes made Dean blush a little. He wasn’t used to someone other than family—i.e. people that  _ had _ to—caring about his well-being.

“No, I’m sure. I actually have to. I need to. I haven’t been back to a club since, you know. But I need to go. Can you just tell me everything you can about the place, so I know what I’m getting into?”

“Sure, come on. Let’s sit for a minute.” He led the way to the couch and sat down sideways, motioning for Dean to do the same so they were facing each other. 

“The Velvet Underground is a member’s only club that caters to all things kink. There is nothing illegal and security is heavy. There is a house safe-word so people who are just playing for the evening don’t have to try to remember a new one. They use the stop-light system and it is posted in every room. The décor is like an old bordello, heavy on the black and red velvet and Victorian style furniture, but it is all very tasteful, even elegant.  The area with the bar is large, with the bar being at one end of the room and the other end of the room lined with stages. There can be multiple demonstrations going on at one time, although there are usually only one or two. The space in between serves as the cocktail and social area.” Cas explained all this calmly, as if he were teaching a class.  

“There are a number of private play rooms to rent for the evening and there are a few rooms for exhibitions,” he went on, caressing the back of Dean’s hand slowly with the tip of one finger.  “That’s where we’ll be this evening. There is one room specifically dedicated to suspension bondage and is equipped accordingly. The floor is vaulted, almost like a theater, although it is nowhere near as big. It’s so the seats in the back are higher up for better viewing of the stage. The room seats about thirty viewers. Cameras are not allowed except with special permission from the owner and the performers. Except for the security cameras, of course. 

“As long as I have permission from the participants, I have blanket permission from the owner. I did all the photography for the website and I regularly shoot special events they hold, so I have a lifetime membership. I assume you are worried about strangers touching you or coming onto you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, continuing at Dean’s nod. 

“Don’t worry about that. The club has a color system. You know those bracelets you get at a concert? The kind that are not quite plastic but not quite paper? The club uses those, unless the member has their own, more permanent, indicator. All subs wear something around the neck, whether it’s a collar of their own or a neck band from the club. The color indicates the sub’s intentions or availability. Doms usually wear their color a bit more subtly. Usually a wrist cuff or some sort of jewelry like a ring or a tie pin. The Doms are generally easy to spot because they  _ don’t _ have anything around their neck. Red, whether worn by a Dom or sub, means do not touch. People who wear red are not playing, they are only observing. A lot of guests will wear red their first time. Blue is for a Dom who is playing but is off limits to others. Green is for a sub who is playing, but is off limits to others. Yellow is for a sub who is with someone, but the Dom may be open to others joining. One just has to ask the Dom for permission. Orange is for a sub who is looking to play and purple is for a Dom who is looking to play and is approachable. 

“A lot of subs that go to the club have their own collar and just wear a tag on the collar indicating their intentions for the night. Some people have collars that are the color they require just for use at the club. 

“A lot of subs will be naked or close to. I will not require this of you tonight. But I can’t promise I won’t in the future, if we decide it is a place we like to visit together. This evening you will wear a neck band of red. I told you initially I do not share, but we will also not be playing tonight. Tonight is for observation only, for both of us. There are also dressing rooms, similar to locker rooms, with showers and lockers for belongings, that kind of thing. They are not divided by gender, however. There is a dressing room for subs and a dressing room for Doms. Most of the time, a sub will feel more comfortable around a strange sub than a strange  Dom, regardless of gender. The entire facility is designed with the safety of the sub in mind.” Cas took a deep breath and let it out slowly, giving Dean time to ask any questions.

After some consideration, Dean finally asked, “You said security is tight, right? Can you tell me about it? Do they have a policy about booting people?”

“What do you mean, ‘booting people’?” Cas looked confused. “Of course they ask people to leave if they don’t follow the rules, and they’ll even call the cops if they have to. But they haven’t had to do that in years. The club has a stellar reputation with local law enforcement. They’ve been around for thirty years and don’t want anything to jeopardize their reputation as a safe place to play. And there are a minimum of four bouncers on duty during business hours.”

“Yeah, but do they talk to other club owners? Do they blacklist people? I guess what I’m trying to get at is would there be a risk of me seeing Alastair there? Purgatory blacklisted him. They sent his information to every fetish club in the tri-state area after what he did to me so they could be aware of the kind of person he is. The question is, would your club follow that?” Dean was a more than a little nervous of running into Alastair. He was not entirely sure how he would react were that to happen, he just knew it would not be good.

“Oh, yes. They would participate in that. If you wish, we can visit the owner when we arrive and ask him. Cain is a good man, I’m sure he’d be willing to speak with us.”

Dean heaved a sigh of relief. Yes, that’s exactly what he wanted to do. He smiled at Cas and gave him a deep kiss to show his gratitude at the suggestion, and for all the information. He felt he could go to the club prepared. Now he could focus on his excitement. “C’mon, let’s get changed. What do you want me to wear?”

They got up and walked to the bedroom holding hands. Dean smiled inwardly at the gesture, knowing that Cas was keeping physical contact to ground him. Just another thing to find endearing about the man. With his ability to anticipate Dean’s needs, Dean was hopeful that he would be a good Dom.

“Something simple. Do you have a plain black t-shirt? Good, wear that, jeans, and your work boots. If it is acceptable to you, I would like to make your neck band here. Out of rope.” He looked sideways at Dean, trying to gauge his reaction.

“I think I’d like that, Cas,” Dean replied, getting his black tee out of his duffle. He quickly changed shirts and did the sneak-n-sniff at the same time to make sure he didn’t smell badly.

Once both men were changed, Cas had Dean follow him to the studio. There, he went to the large trunk that he used to store his rope. It was organized by color, size of rope, and size of each hank. There were several removable wooden trays for the smaller ropes. It was from one of these trays that Cas pulled out a small diameter red silk rope. “May I put this on you?” he asked, seeming a little nervous of Dean’s reaction.

Dean didn’t blame him, but was quick to put those fears to rest. He walked right up to Cas and bared his neck to him, saying, “Yes, Sir.” He stood still with his feet shoulder width apart and his hands behind his back, using his right hand to grab his left wrist. All this had been taught to him as a proper submissive stance. 

Cas seemed pleased and got to work. In no time, Dean had a braid of red silk around his neck with a thick monkey’s fist nestled underneath his Adam’s apple. He’d never been collard, officially, before, but he got the feeling he would like very much to wear Cas’ collar. Especially if Cas’ current reaction would be repeated. Cas seemed to enjoy seeing his rope around Dean’s neck  _ very much _ .

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “May I take a photograph?”

“Sure, Cas. You can take as many pictures as you want of me, at any time. I just ask to have a say on publication.”

Cas raced to get his camera from his messenger bag by the door and snapped a few shots of Dean’s neck. He framed them so Dean’s face wasn’t in the picture, but he figured he’d eventually get more.

“Do you mind wearing this at dinner?” he asked, while showing Dean what it looked like.

He couldn’t answer for a moment, he even forgot that he’d been asked a question. Even though his face wasn’t in the shot, Dean would recognize his own throat anywhere. Except now it was adorned with blood red silk. And it was awesome. He reached up and lightly moved a finger along the braid, stopping to worry at the monkey’s fist a bit. No, he didn’t mind in the least.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Castiel would never admit it, but he went to a lot of trouble making the dinner plans for the evening. He wanted it to be perfect. He wanted an atmosphere that they could talk freely in, which meant a place that wasn’t dead silent. He didn’t want to worry about being overheard. He didn’t want to have to go to the other side of the city and back again, so proximity factored in, as did the menu itself. Dean very much liked food and Castiel wanted to treat him to something that was delicious and possibly a new experience for Dean.

Earlier in the week, Castiel had called his friend Hannah. She owned a fairly new restaurant called The Purple Pig. It was between his loft and the club, so it had the right location. It was also a very popular restaurant, so it wouldn’t be too quiet. But, also because it was a very popular restaurant, it was very difficult to get into and they didn’t take reservations.

Castiel knew Hannah from college. They’d been in the same pre-med program, and she’d been just as disillusioned with it as he was. When Castiel made the leap and changed his major to focus on photography, Hannah followed suit and went to culinary school. Hannah had since become very successful in her pursuits and credited Castiel with giving her the courage to follow her dream. So, when he called her and told her he had a very special date, Hannah didn’t hesitate to make an exception. She’d told him the corner booth would be waiting for him at 6 p.m.

As the men were led to their table, Dean looked around, taking in his surroundings. Normally, Castiel would take the seat that would allow him to view the entire restaurant, but he could sense the hypervigilance Dean was feeling at being in a new environment. He directed Dean to the seat with a view and smiled inwardly as the man visibly relaxed. There would be times when Castiel wanted to push Dean out of his comfort zone, to specifically make him uncomfortable, just to show him what he’s capable of. Tonight, however, was a night for making Dean feel safe. Safe with Castiel, safe with ropes, and safe coming back into the community.

The Purple Pig was a tapas-style restaurant, so they ordered several different dishes to share. This was, arguably, the biggest reason Castiel chose the place. His mind wandered back to the pie at The Roadhouse occasionally, and he wanted to repeat the experience. While they waited for their food, they talked about the evening to come.

“How do you know Victor and Pamela?” Dean asked, taking a drink of his water.

“I met them at the club, actually. A few years ago, Cain came to me and asked if I would be willing to document events for the club, and the first one I did was a suspension demonstration with the pair. It’s actually kind of funny. Victor was still fairly new at being a rigger and I ended up teaching him a few things. The club occasionally does workshops for people who want to learn something new. After I’d shown Victor a few things, he mentioned it to Cain and I found myself teaching a basic suspension class with Pamela as my model,” Castiel explained. He hoped that Dean would get along with his friends.

“So you guys became friends?” Dean asked.

“Yes. We mostly see each other at the club, but occasionally we’ll meet for drinks. Victor is very busy, so those occurrences are rare. Victor is a detective with Chicago’s Major Case unit. Pamela is a therapist. I think you’ll like her. She’s snarky, like you,” he chuckled, thinking of the woman’s brash nature. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Pamela was just a female Dean.

“That’s cool. And you said the owner, Cain is it? You said he’s cool?” Castiel could tell that Dean was still trying to get comfortable. He’d had the impression before that Dean didn’t really talk much, so he figured all the questions were the sub’s way of exerting what control he could.

“Yes, Cain is a good man. He’s owned the club for almost thirty years. He actually inherited it from the previous owner, who had been his Dom and died unexpectedly. Cain has dedicated himself to making a safe place for people to play, and he occasionally takes on a mentorship.” At Dean’s questioning glance, Castiel continued, “He will take a new Dom under his wing and make sure they become a great Dom, one who is knowledgeable about the human body and its limits, and who will put their sub’s health and safety above all else.”

“Did he mentor you?” Dean asked, curious.

Castiel shook his head. “No, by the time I came to the club I’d already been Domming for several years. Besides, Balthazar was a great teacher. And I firmly believe that one cannot be a great Dom without having been a sub first. Or, at least, at some point in their life. A Dom can only truly understand subspace and its consequences if they’ve been there.”  He fell quiet, waiting patiently to see if he had any more questions.

Dean seemed to appreciate this and opened his mouth to reply, but their dinner arrived.

Castiel spent the next 45 minutes slowly feeding his sub. The nature of the dishes lent easily to feeding Dean, and Castiel relished the noises of appreciation coming from the man. Only once he’d indicated he was full did Castiel focus on feeding himself. It gave him great pleasure to provide for his sub, to have Dean’s sustenance come from his hands.

After dinner, the drive to the club was short and quiet. Castiel left Dean to his thoughts. This evening was going to be difficult enough without Castiel distracting Dean. It was his first trip back to a club, after all. Dean needed to be able to focus, and to process.

After they got out of the car, Castiel sidled up next to Dean and stopped him. He grabbed the monkey’s fist and tugged gently. Dean’s eyes fluttered a little and his mouth opened just a bit. “If you start to get uncomfortable, or feel like you can’t handle it, tug on this. It will ground you. If that doesn’t work, let me know and we’ll leave. Immediately and no questions asked, got it?” Castiel looked him straight in the eye to show the man how sincere his words were.

“Yes, Sir. I understand. Thank you, Cas. This is a big step for me, and I’m glad you’re here.” Dean leaned forward and rested his forehead against Castiel’s. Castiel let his sub have his moment, then pulled away.

“Come on, let’s go meet Cain.” He tugged Dean’s hand until he followed him to the front door, where a rather large black man was standing around, being intimidating.

“Good evening, Uriel. How are you doing?” Castiel asked as they approached. He swung his messenger bag off his shoulder and opened it for inspection.

“Castiel, it’s good to see you! I’m well, thank you. Are you shooting Vic and Pam tonight? I think it’s going to be a good one; it’s sold out,” he said, checking Castiel’s bag for weapons. He wasn’t making light when he told Dean about the club’s security.

“Yes, we’re going to see Victor and Pamela this evening. Before we do that, though, is Cain in? I’d like to introduce Dean, here.” Castiel slung his bag back on his shoulder and shook hands with the bouncer.

“Yeah, he’s in his office. You know the way. Nice to meet you, Dean. Any friend of Castiel’s, you know? If you need anything, or if anyone gives you shit, you come to me, okay? I’ll take care of it.” 

Uriel offered his hand to Dean to shake and looked him straight in the eye as he spoke. Most people in his position  would not acknowledge the sub. Some people would talk to the Dom and ignore the sub altogether, unless the Dom allowed otherwise. Not Uriel. It was a large part of his job to make sure the subs were safe and happy. Plus, he liked Castiel. He’d rarely seen him with a guest, so he would do what he could to make them both comfortable.

“Nice to meet you, too. And thanks. I appreciate it,” Dean said, genuinely pleased and meeting Uriel’s gaze. The moment passed quickly and Dean followed Castiel inside.

Castiel led the way to the back of the club and a staircase that went up. Nodding to the bartender on duty, Zeke, he went up the stairs and to the end of the hall, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” came a smooth voice from within.

Castiel looked at Dean and, getting a small nod from the man, pushed open the door. “Cain, it’s good to see you. Do you have a few moments to spare?” he asked, moving over to the large, ornate desk the man occupied.

“Castiel! I was wondering if we’d see you this evening! To what do I owe the pleasure of a personal visit? Not playing tonight?” Cain came around the desk and did the thing that men do, where they shake hands with one hand and hug with the other arm at the same time. As they parted, Cain indicated Castiel’s attire. He was wearing a plain black dress shirt and black dress pants, with a blood red tie. Red for hands off, just like the rope around Dean’s neck.

Because Castiel didn’t deal in half-truths and innuendos, he got right to the point. “I’d like you to meet someone special to me. Cain, this is Dean. Dean, this is Cain.” He waited a moment while the men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. “Dean and I are embarking on a Dom/sub relationship, and there are a few…considerations.” 

Cain gave Castiel a raised eyebrow, but said nothing, expecting the man to continue. 

“I’ll let Dean explain. It’s his story to tell. Dean?” Castiel indicated for Dean to sit on one of the chairs in front of the desk, and he sat in the other.

“Uh,” Dean said, instantly unsure. Castiel grabbed his hand in a show of support, and the sub relaxed a little bit. “I don’t really know where to begin. I, uh, I’ve had a bad experience before. Two years ago. Some shit happened and this is the first time I’ve been back to a club since. The first time back in the scene, really. I’m just a little paranoid about safety and security, I guess.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, obviously nervous.

“I see. Are you concerned about safety in general, or is there something specific you are worried about?” Cain asked, tucking a lock of his long salt-and-pepper hair behind his ear.

“I, uh. Shit. Have you ever heard of Alastair Rolston?” Dean asked, point blank.

“I have. What does that poor excuse for a human being have to do with this?” Cain’s voice had an edge to it, now, that made even Castiel squirm a little bit. He’d never seen Cain in full-on Dom mode, but he suspected it started like this.

“So you know about him? About the shit he’s done? Do you…do you know about Kansas City? Purgatory?” Dean asked, head down and staring at his hand where it was held in Castiel’s. It broke his heart a little to see Dean going through this, but he knew it was necessary if they were to have any meaningful interactions at all.

Cain tensed obviously, and replied, “Yes, I know about Kansas City. I know he abducted a patron of Purgatory and tortured him for a week, almost killing him. I also know that Alastair is currently whereabouts unknown.”

“Yeah, well…I was that patron,” he said, using Cain’s word and raising his head to look the club’s owner straight in the eye.

Castiel watched as understanding dawned on Cain’s face. The Dom voice didn’t disappear, but it became softer, more comforting.

“Oh. Well. First, let me say thank you. Thank you for sharing that information with me, I know it must have been difficult. And thank you for not giving up on the scene. It has many benefits and many, many good people. I work very hard to make sure people like Alastair Rolston do not exist. I’m pleased that you chose Castiel and my club to get your feet wet again. Castiel is a good man and a good Dom. You are in great hands with him. That said, if things do not go satisfactorily, please, do not hesitate to let me know. I can help. All of that aside, what can I do for you, Dean?”

“Well, um, mostly I think you just did it,” Dean replied, the tension leaving his shoulders. “I just really don’t want to risk running into Alastair or his cronies, especially Ruby. I haven’t been back to Purgatory since it happened, but I know they fired Ruby.  I just…yeah, that’s it. I don’t want to run into either of them.”

“Well, you have nothing to worry about in that respect. All security personnel are well-versed in our so-called ‘no fly’ list, and Alastair is at the top of it. I don’t have Ruby on it, but if you have her last name I can run her down and put her on the list as well. How was she involved, if I may ask?” Cain was all business as he pulled out a piece of paper and a pen to write down the woman’s name. Castiel was curious as well, as he hadn’t heard this part of the story yet.

“Ruby was a waitress at Purgatory. She and I were friendly. Nothing ever happened; neither of us was interested in that. But whenever I was there she was my server. We got to talking and she said there was a Dom I should meet. She thought we’d be great together. It was Alastair. Turns out, she was his scout. Her last name is Cassidy. Purgatory fired her just for her association in the whole mess, though there wasn’t enough on her for the cops to file charges. I haven’t heard anything about her since.”

“Well, I don’t have anyone on staff here or in the membership rolls named Ruby, so that’s a plus,” Cain said, writing notes on his paper. “Just so you know, there are cameras everywhere, recording in every room, including the dressing rooms. It’s for the protection of the subs, I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, I can. And hey, if you ever need help upgrading your system, I’ve got a friend with skills that will make what you have now look like Super 8,” Dean said with a big smile. Castiel heaved a sigh of relief at the exchange. One major hurdle down. Now they can truly enjoy their evening.

“Cain,” he said, rising and sticking out his hand, “thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

Returning the handshake, Cain replied, “My pleasure, Castiel. You have always been a positive influence around here, and your new friend is very welcome, as well. Dean, it is great to meet you. Welcome to The Velvet Underground,” he finished, shaking Dean’s hand as well.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

As they made their way back downstairs and into the main bar area, Dean let out a big breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It was a big relief to know that he wouldn’t run into Alastair or Ruby here, and Cain had seemed like a good man, just as Cas had said.

“Do you want a drink?” Cas asked, quietly. “Normally, I don’t drink when I’m shooting, but there’s no reason you can’t have one, if you want. We’ve got time.” He held on tight to Dean’s hand, to keep him grounded.

Dean felt he could use a little liquid courage; it had, after all, been very nerve-wracking to tell Cain who he was. It had been a comfort to see Cain’s obvious distaste for Alastair, and to know that he wouldn’t see the man here. But he’d been wound tight before the conversation and he needed to release it somehow.

“Yeah,” he said, “I could go for a beer. Nothing hard, though,” he finished, as he followed Cas to the bar.

“Evenin’, Castiel, what can I get for you tonight?” The bartender was drying some glasses with a rag as he walked up to the couple, smiling warmly.

“Good evening, Zeke, it’s good to see you. Can you get Dean a beer? Whatever’s on tap,” he looked to Dean for confirmation, “and I’ll have club soda with a lime, please.” They both took seats on the stools at the bar while they waited for their beverages.

As Zeke brought their drinks, Dean noticed he was also carrying a Sharpie. “Give him your hand, Dean,” Cas said. 

Dean complied, even though he had no idea what was going on. Zeke proceeded to mark the back of Dean’s right hand with a large X.

“What’s this for?” he asked, taking his hand back.

“Scenes and alcohol are mutually exclusive. You can have one or the other, but not both. Even though you are wearing red, it is club policy that anyone drinking alcohol gets the mark. Anyone with the mark will not be allowed to play,” Cas answered Dean.

Dean accepted the explanation as yet another example of the safety measures of the club. He wondered if this one was just at The Velvet Underground, or if it was a standard in the lifestyle. Purgatory certainly never enforced any such rule. That was part of his problem, since his drink had been dosed.

Once they had their drinks, the settled into a quiet conversation. 

“I’m very proud of you, Dean,” Cas said softly. “I’m proud of you for stepping out of your comfort zone and coming to the club, and talking to Cain. It took a lot of guts.” Cas laid his hand on Dean’s knee and squeezed gently, before removing the hand again.

Dean caught Castiel’s hand and brought it back to his thigh, but Cas didn’t let it stay.

“Dean, there is a reason you are wearing red tonight. Red is specifically no touch. By anyone, including myself. If I can’t honor that simple line just because you are my boyfriend, then I have no business being anyone’s Dom,” Cas explained gently. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t taking an inordinate amount of self-control to keep my hands off you, by any means,” he finished with a wicked gleam in his eye. 

Dean laughed and finished his beer. 

“Come, let’s go meet Victor and Pamela.” Cas hopped off the barstool and held his hand out to Dean, who raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes, Dean, holding hands is okay, unless you say otherwise.”

Dean smirked at his boyfriend and took his hand, following him across the room to a hallway with a bunch of doors. 

“These are the exhibition rooms. Each one has a purpose. There are a few rooms that are identical, because certain things are popular like bondage horses or St. Andrew’s Crosses, but there is only one suspension room. I think you’ll like it,” Cas explained as he led his boyfriend toward the room in question.

Cas pushed open the door and poked his head in. “Hello, Victor. Is it alright if we come in?” Apparently getting the answer he was looking for, he pushed the door open and beckoned Dean to follow him.

Dean felt like he was in some sort of bondage-themed toy store-slash-museum. The black and red velvet décor was carried over, and all the furnishings had the same Victorian elegance of the rest of the club. The guest seating was a mish-mash of love seats and shorter wing-back chairs, all within the style. The room was tiered, as Cas had explained, so even if you were behind one of the wing-back chairs, you could still see. 

The stage was simple wood painted black, and there were tables lining the walls of that area. Upon the tables were skeins and skeins of rope, mostly in reds and black. There was a little hardware, but Dean noticed the big ring hanging down from an eye hook in the ceiling. It was beautiful. It was a large silver-colored metal ring with a [ Celtic trinity knot](https://img1.etsystatic.com/066/0/7207219/il_fullxfull.772232219_v9l8.jpg) in the middle. On the floor underneath the knot was a large black canvas, kind of like a painter’s drop-cloth. In the center of the canvas, was a beautiful brunette woman doing yoga. Behind her, at one of the tables, was a large, imposing black man. He was murmuring things to her in a hushed voice and she would hum in response. It was as if he needed answers to questions, or to impart information, but he was reluctant to interrupt her relaxation. Both, however, looked up when the door closed with a loud snick.

“Castiel!” said the woman. “It’s so good to see you! We didn’t know if you’d be coming tonight or not. I see you brought your camera, and—oh! Who is this handsome devil?” She unfolded herself from the pose she had pretzeled herself into and walked toward the newcomers.

“Pamela, lovely to see you. This is Dean, my boyfriend. Dean, this is Pamela. I’ve told you about her.” Cas stepped aside so Dean could greet Pamela.

“Nothing too vanilla, I hope,” she said with a lascivious wink and shaking his proffered hand.

Dean was beside himself with her flirtatious nature. On a normal day, he’d break out the Blue Steel and let loose the charm. But today wasn’t a normal day; he was there with his boyfriend, his Dom. 

Stepping forward, he replied, “Nice to meetchya, Pamela. Cas has had nothing but nice things to say about you. Nothing vanilla at all,” he winked back, just to gain back his equilibrium than anything. He retreated back to Cas’ side, unsure of what was expected of him as a sub in this club. He relaxed a touch when Cas put his arm around Dean, resting his hand on Dean’s hip. A little possessive, but mostly reassuring.

Pamela burst out laughing at his joke and told him to call her Pam. Only her grandmother and Cas got away with calling her Pamela. 

By this time, the large man had come up beside Pam and shook hands with Cas.“Glad to see you, man,” he said in a booming voice, coming forward to shake Cas’ hand. “Dean,” he said, reaching his hand out to shake, “nice to meet you. Cas doesn’t really bring people around so, if he says you’re good people then you’re good people.”

Dean was a little taken aback. At Purgatory subs weren’t spoken to, and especially not without asking the Dom first. Seeing the confusion on his face, Cas explained.

“Dean, you may be a sub, my sub, but you are still a person. We are also not playing tonight. You do not need my permission to talk to anyone. Now, if you were naked, wearing my collar, and following me around on a leash, that would be another story,” he finished, and seemed satisfied with the expression on Dean’s face. 

Dean thought he might like to try that someday.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, looking the man, whom he assumed was Victor, in the eye while shaking his hand. He may be a sub, but he was Cas’ sub, not anyone’s.

“C’mon Dean,” Pam said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward her space on the stage, “I’ll show you what we’re gonna do.”

“So, you seem to be pretty enthusiastic for a sub,” he said cautiously as they reached the  _ tatami _ mat that Pam would be kneeling on later.

“Well, first, just because I’m a sub doesn’t mean I have no personality. And we don’t live it all the time. Just when we scene. Granted, some of our scenes have been extended. We once spent an entire two weeks at an island resort dedicated to BDSM. Two weeks straight of not being able to mouth off to Vic, it was torture,” she explained, with a gleam in her eye, “oooh, but what sweet torture it was, too!”

“Hehe, I’m a bratty sub, too,” Dean laughed.

“Oh, no, I’m not really a brat. Normally, yes, I am. But as soon as Vic says a key phrase to me, it’s like flipping a switch. Total Pavlovian response.”

“Oh yeah? What does he say?” Dean was curious. One simple phrase could put this woman in subspace? He’d have to see it to believe it.

“You’ll just have to see, now won’t you?” She winked at him as she continued. “So, what we’re doing tonight is rope suspension. I assume you know at least a little bit, since you’re here with Cas. I’ll start by kneeling on the  _ tatami _ mat and centering myself. Vic may greet the audience, he may not, just depending on his mood. He hasn’t told me everything that’s going to happen tonight, but he did let slip that there will probably be some orgasm denial.” She laughed at his attempt at being discreet as he shifted his hips a little bit.

“Do your rope sessions always turn sexual? I ask because what Cas does, with his photography, doesn’t.” He didn’t want to offend, but he was genuinely curious as to why anyone would do anything BDSM-related and not finish with spectacular orgasms.

“Eh, I’d say about half the time. Sometimes, if I have a bad day at work, he’ll tie me up a little. Nothing extreme. But it’s my signal that it’s okay to let go. As soon as the rope starts to wind around my body…it’s like, the tighter the rope is pulled, it’s squeezing the negative thoughts out. There’s no room for them. There’s only room for breathing, my heart beating, and obeying Sir.” As she explained this to Dean, her face took on a peaceful look, almost like she was slipping a little bit. Dean supposed she might be, since she was about to be tied and had to mentally prepare herself.

“Thank you, Pam, for explaining that to me. I think I’ll go sit down and let you do what you need to do.” With a brief nod to her, he moved on over to the seating area, picking a seat on the end of the third row up.

Cas had seen him take his seat and excused himself from Victor for a moment. As he approached Dean, he had a small smile that was just for Dean. “Did Pam explain to you how the evening will go?” he asked, as he settled into the seat next to his sub.

“As much as she could, yeah. Apparently Victor has some surprises for her tonight,” Dean replied quietly. “Are you going to be documenting the whole thing?”

“Yes. I will be moving around to get the shots that Victor has asked for, but I will never leave the room without you.” Cas put his hand on the armrest of Dean’s chair in lieu of his knee.

“I know you won’t, Cas,” Dean replied. “Would it be okay if I asked for a kiss?” he asked, eyes darting around the mostly empty room.

“Yes, Dean, you may ask for a kiss. It’s just Victor and Pam right now, so it’s okay.” Castiel looked Dean in the eye, with the very slightest elevation of his left eyebrow. Dean had come to privately call that Cas’ Dom brow. It was almost as sexy as his Dom voice. 

He also knew that he wasn’t going to get his kiss unless he explicitly asked for it.

“Please, Sir, may I have a kiss before the session starts?” Dean asked, looking at Cas through his eyelashes and tilting his head ever so slightly, showing off his neck and the scarlet rope adorning it.

Cas’ eyes flitted briefly to the display at Dean’s neck and licked his lips. “Yes, my sweet boy, you may have a kiss.” 

He leaned in to Dean’s space and joined their lips in a kiss that spoke volumes of what they each were thinking. It wasn’t chaste, but it wasn’t dirty, either. It was a promise. A promise from Castiel that he would be there with Dean the whole time, and that they could leave at any time if Dean needed to. It was a promise from Dean to be a good boy, to observe and learn, and file the information for later use. 

It was also a thank you, from Dean to Cas, for pulling him out of his social shell and bringing him back to a world he loved, but also protecting him at the same time. Dean knew he was no good at talking about his feelings, but he could show Cas through actions. Cas hummed with pleasure as he broke the kiss, letting Dean know he got the message.

As their kiss broke, people started to enter the room and take seats. Cas told him to sit tight, that the show would be starting in a few minutes, and that if he wanted to leave for any reason, at any time, all he had to do was stand up and walk to the door. Cas would know. So Dean sat back and people-watched as the room started to fill. 

Everyone was dressed in all kinds of different ways. There were a few subs on leashes who were naked and either walking behind their Dom or crawling next to them on all fours. They did not sit in chairs or on the few love seats available, but on the floor at the knees of their Dom. Dean noticed that the loveseats had extra pillows just for this occasion, and the subs were comfortably seated on their cushions. Other subs were sitting next to their Doms, and there were some Doms and subs that were by themselves. Dean was surprised at how easy it was to tell who was who. Cas had explained the color system very well. Dean guessed that it was necessary. It reduced confusion as to who could or wanted to play versus those, like himself, who were hands-off.

He got a few appraising looks from both men and women, but as soon as they saw the red rope around his neck they looked away with disappointment. Their looks didn’t bother him. He knew he was attractive, so he was used to it. It was their disappointment that affected him. It thrilled him to know that these people wanted to touch him, but they were not allowed. Only Castiel was allowed. He may have preened a little bit at that thought.

The general chatter in the room settled down to a quiet murmur as the lights dimmed. The light around the stage stayed constant. It wasn’t bright, but it was sufficient for the audience to see. Dean could see Pam in her silk kimono kneeling on the  _ tatami _ mat, knees slightly spread, head up with her gaze locked somewhere at the back of the room, and hands locked together behind her back.

“Thank you for coming tonight, everyone,” Victor started, not even needing a microphone in the small space. “Tonight we will go through several ties and add a little fun at the end. Please, no pictures. We have a professional photographer and images will be available later, if you want to check out our website.” With that, he turned towards Pam. Her eyes glanced quickly to her Dom and back to the spot she had been burning a hole in. He smirked in reply and spoke in a soft, deep voice.

“What’s my name, pet?”

The transformation was visible to Dean. Her eyes and head dropped, her shoulders relaxed, and she replied softly, “Sir.”

“Have you been a good girl this week?” It came out as a question, but like one the Dom already knew the answer to.

“Mostly, Sir,” came her answer. Dean could detect a slight difference in the quality of her voice. She was starting to sound a little far away. Dean marveled at it. He’d heard of it, but never seen it before. These two must have been together for years to develop the kind of relationship and trust that could send the sub down with just a few key phrases. He suspected she wasn’t very far down, but probably in that pleasantly humming state.

“Mostly, pet? Why mostly?”

“I came without permission yesterday, Sir.” She squirmed a little bit while giving her answer.

“I see. Well, we’ll just have to do something about that, now won’t we?” He moved over to the table at the back of the stage and picked up several hanks of rope, setting all but one down on the canvas at the center of the stage.

Pam didn’t answer Victor’s question, but he didn’t seem angry, like he wasn’t expecting her to answer. He uncoiled the length of rope in his hand and started with a harness around her chest and upper arms, also going around her neck. When he was satisfied with the harness, he pulled open her kimono to reveal her breasts, squeezed deliciously by the rope above and below them. Victor guided Pam to stand, and looped the ends of the rope through the large ring hanging from the ceiling. There was just a little bit of slack, but not a whole lot. He gave her one word commands throughout, first calling for one leg. She adjusted her stance to balance on one foot and bent the other leg back, so her heel was touching her ass. Victor used a new hank of rope and tied Pam’s shin to her thigh, in what Cas had informed Dean was called the [ _futumomo_](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CDzI8rQVAAAfhsX.jpg) tie. It was a simple, yet elegant way to bind the leg. 

He used the remaining rope to coil around the rope already attached to the Shibari ring. This brought her leg up a little more, forcing her onto her tiptoes. Victor left her like that for a few moments, quietly praising her for not moving. When her leg started to shake from the effort, he gave her a slight push and she went swinging. Pam bent the leg that was not tied so it didn’t drag. Dean thought she made a beautiful pendulum. Victor took hold of Pam when the apex of her swing brought her close to him, stopping the motion. His hand came up and caressed her cheek. Dean could see the love in that one simple gesture.

Victor moved to get another hank of rope, letting Pam swing free again. He moved behind her with a predatory look on his face, as if he were trying to decide how best to devour his prey. The Dom gently stopped the sub’s motion with a firm arm around her waist. Dean watched, enthralled, as that simple contact made Pam’s head loll back and her lips part. She clearly enjoyed what was happening to her. Pam’s head swung back forward and down as Victor picked up her free leg and tied it the same as the other one. He wound the remaining rope as he did the first leg, with the result that her body was in a horizontal plain, belly down, and her knees were apart. He set her swinging again, caressing body parts as they passed.

What came next shouldn’t have been a surprise to Dean, but was anyway. Victor walked to Pam’s head and unceremoniously pulled out his erect cock. She didn’t even have to be told what to do, immediately opening up and swallowing him down. Dean was impressed. It took practice to be able to swallow a large cock down to the root on the first pass. Victor held his sub’s body still by the harness rope while she bobbed her head up and down his length for several minutes. Pam gave a high-pitched whine when he abruptly withdrew and tucked himself away, still rock hard.

“What was that, little girl? Did you say something?” he said, in a teasing manner.

“Want your cock, Sir, want your cum,” she said, loud enough for the room to hear.

“Hmm. Do you think you deserve it? You didn’t even say ‘please’.”

“Please, Sir, I’m sorry Sir,” she replied, a little edge to her voice.

“I don’t know, I think you need a little punishment for not asking politely.” He started manipulating the leg ties until she looked like a frog, with her knees on either side of her abdomen and her ass pushed out for all to see. Dean could immediately appreciate the simple black thong that bared her ass, yet protected her most intimate bits from being exposed to the room. He thought that, if he were her Dom, he wouldn’t want everybody to be able to see those parts either.

While Dean had been slightly mesmerized by lingerie—shocker—Victor had picked up a [ pink leather flogger](http://www.slapleather.com/large-suede-flogger-hot-pink-with-black-leather-handle-f002s-hp-652-p.asp) and started swinging it in circles, just shy of Pam’s skin. When the woman started whimpering a little bit, Victor called out to her, “Count ‘em out, sweetheart.” He withdrew his hand and swung forward, making contact with her ass.

Pam flinched, but she didn’t cry out. Instead, she said, in a steady voice, “One, Sir.”

As the hits went along, they got steadily stronger until, at number seven, Pam cried out before calling out the number, her voice trembling. Victor stopped and rubbed a hand gently over the pink striped skin, cooing at her.

“Good girl,” he said, “only three more. I know you can take it.”

“Yes, Sir, I can take it, Sir, thank you,” she said in a rush. The wiggling and flinching from the flogging had sent her swaying just a little bit, but not enough for Victor to stop it.

After all ten hits were completed and properly counted off, the Dom immediately praised her and walked around to her head. He bent down, lifted her chin with one finger, and said, “I knew you could take it, such a good girl. Now, you’ll remember to ask properly next time, won’t you?”

“Yes, Sir, I will, I promise.” Dean could hear the relief in her voice, as if she was expecting more of a punishment. From Dean’s own experience, that was a pretty light punishment. But he didn’t want to think about that.

Victor kissed Pam’s mouth deeply, then replied, “I know you will, baby girl. Now, for the fun part.” The glee in his voice was evident, and Dean thought this must be the surprise that had been mentioned earlier.

Victor went to work on the ropes, changing Pam’s position again. This time, her legs were in the same position relative to her body that she’d started in, with her body in one plain and her knees spread. But she was no longer horizontal. Her body had been tilted, so Dean could see her belly and breasts. One knee was pointing toward the floor and the other was at about a thirty degree angle. Victor went back to the table and retrieved something that had been hidden under a black cloth. Dean recognized it as a [ Hitachi Magic Wand](https://hitachimagic.com/) . Victor brought it and another small hank of rope over to Pam. He proceeded to strap it to the down leg, with the head right against her clit. He plugged it into an extension cord at the edge of the stage. Victor walked back over to his wife and began tugging harshly on her kimono so all that was left was her  [ little black thong ](http://imgur.com/UpXKHac) .

Curiosity piqued, Dean sat up a little bit straighter.  _ Oh, _ he thought to himself,  _ this should be fun. _ As Victor picked up a little black box with a dial, Dean’s eyebrow raised. He watched Victor sit in a simple straight-back chair at the edge of the stage and turn the dial.

The effect was immediate. 

Pam jerked as the vibrator came to life, a small groan escaping. Dean settled back in his chair to watch the show as Victor slowly raised the vibrations on the device. The vibrations were so strong, Dean could hear them from his seat.

As it was, Pam was slowly devolving into a writhing mess. Yet, no matter how much she wriggled, jerked, or convulsed, the wand never left her clit. Her whining noises were starting to get to Dean as his cock twitched. He wasn’t interested in Pam, however, so he ignored it. He couldn’t justify beating off to a woman he knew, and knew was taken. Especially when he, himself, was also taken. It was disrespectful to his Dom and hers. As he looked around the room, though, he noticed that several viewers were either palming their crotches or had taken their cocks out and were stroking themselves. One Dom had his pet acting as a cock-warmer. Victor even had his own dick out and was lazily jacking himself.

All of a sudden, Pam spoke in a strained tone. “Please, Sir, may I come?”

“No,” came the gruff reply. Dean thought back to the beginning of the scene, when she had admitted to coming without permission earlier in the week. This could get very interesting.

She seemed to accept this answer for all of thirty seconds before she begged again. “Please, Sir, I need to come. May I come, Sir?” At least she was remembering to ask properly, Dean thought.

“No. How bad do you want to come?”

“Mmmmm, really bad, Sir, pleeeease!”

“I don’t think so, not yet.” He turned up the vibrator to the highest setting and she cried out. “Don’t you dare come without permission, little girl.”

Pam jerked hard, and Dean could tell she was biting her lip from fighting the impending orgasm so hard. He could sympathize. He’d been edged plenty and knew how it felt. By Dean’s estimation, it had been a full ten minutes of the Hitachi vibrating like mad against her clit.

“You wanna come, little girl?” Victor asked, harsh tone to his voice.

“Mmm, yessir, please Sir.”

“Come!”

“Nnnnggggg, thank you, Sir!” she cried out, as her body rhythmically convulsed with her orgasm and one long groan. Once the spasms had settled down a bit, her Dom turned off the vibrator. She relaxed significantly, her head hanging and hair in her face, still swaying slightly from the ropes.

Victor walked calmly behind his beautiful, satisfied sub and planted himself at her head once more, his erect cock slapping her in the face as she came to the apex of her swing. She immediately took the cue and enthusiastically took him in her mouth.

“How do you want your reward, baby girl? On your face, on your tits, or do you want to swallow?” His voice was calm and even, with a trace of lust that not even the best Dom could suppress.

“Face please, Sir,” she slurred, going back to work immediately. And work she did. Dean was impressed with her level of energy while blowing her husband, on stage, after having a spectacular orgasm, again on stage.

Victor grabbed the ropes holding her arms just between the shoulder blades and rocked her back and forth a little, aiding her efforts. After a minute or so, he stopped her movement and began fucking her mouth in earnest. The man had been quite the whole time, but finally lost a modicum of control as he neared the edge. He began to huff a little, humming and groaning as he hit the back of her throat.

Suddenly, he pulled back and, with a series of grunts, jacked himself quickly until he came all over Pam’s blissed-out face. Once he had come down enough to tuck himself back in his pants, he knelt down and dragged the flat of his tongue up one cheek. She giggled, as if it tickled, then moaned into the deep kiss he gave her. He got up, walked over to the table, and returned with a soft cloth to clean her face.

At this point, some people started getting up and leaving. But Dean noticed that at least half of the audience remained. Curious as to what was left of the show, Dean remained seated. It wasn’t like he was going to go anywhere without Cas, who was still shooting.

After Victor cleaned Pam’s face, he set about untying her. First, he removed the Hitachi, placing it on the table. He then removed the rope from her down leg, letting her stabilize herself from swaying. She didn’t try to put any weight on it, though, and Dean didn’t blame her. After the remaining leg was free from rope, Victor undid the rope looped through the Shibari ring, allowing Pam to sink to the floor. Victor settled on his knees behind her and she leaned into him. He slowly undid the rope harness around her torso and breasts. With every slow sweep of his hand he caressed her body. She smiled and hummed her pleasure at the touches.

Dean was as enthralled by the unravelling process as he was the tying. He thought he understood now…at least as much as he could without having been tied himself. The rope was an extension of Victor. Every time a rope wrapped around her torso, or her leg, it was Victor wrapping himself around her, caressing her, loving her. Dean had expected to be aroused sexually coming into the evening. He was at a fetish club, after all. What he hadn’t expected was to become overwhelmed by the emotion, the connection between the demonstrators. He felt privileged to have witnessed a manifestation of their love for each other but, at the same time, he felt like he was intruding on a private moment. He looked around at that thought, hoping no one caught the blush rising on his cheeks.

Too late…Cas was staring right through him, with a knowing smile.

Once Victor had freed Pam of the ropes, they stayed there for several minutes just holding each other, the Dom whispering praise in her ear. As the room cleared, Pam seemed to come back to herself. Dean could tell she was mostly back when she started giving Victor a hard time for the sweet shit he was saying to her.

“Aaaaand, she’s back, folks,” Victor laughed. He got up and grabbed a candy bar and juice box from the table and gave it to Pam. She dug into her aftercare snack as he started to gather the ropes, winding them into their proper form for storage.

At this point, Cas came over to Dean to check up on him. “Well, what did you think?” he asked, with what sounded like mild trepidation.

“To be honest, I’m completely blown away,” he said, dumbfounded. “I totally expected to get turned on. I mean, come on, we’re in a fetish club and a hot chick was just tied up and edged, finishing up with a huge load in her face. There is no reality where that isn’t hot as fuck. But after, with the way he untied her…it was sensual, and gentle, and loving. That’s not normally something I’d associate with rope bondage. It was unexpected, but it was awesome. What about you, did you get some good shots?” Dean tried to deflect back to Cas. 

He was still trying to process through the emotions he had just witnessed, let alone the emotions coursing through him. Would he feel like that when Cas tied him? He shook the thought off for now, wanting to delay that exploration of feelings as long as possible.

“Yes, I believe I got quite a few good shots. I’ll have to go through them to be sure, but I believe Victor and Pamela will be pleased. I may even have one or two shots that would be good for my exhibition, if they are willing. Please excuse me for a moment, while I check in with Victor.” He gave Dean a quick kiss, caressing his cheek at the same time. Then, with a small smile, the one meant just for Dean, he turned around and walked toward the stage.

Dean watched as the two Doms conversed for a few minutes. Victor was never more than two feet away from Pam, and he was constantly walking over to her, even if just to give her a quick kiss on top of her head, as he finished cleaning up. By this time, she had pulled her robe back on and seemed to be just basking in the afterglow of subspace and a fucking awesome orgasm. 

Dean felt it might be okay to talk to her, so he quietly approached the stage, pausing to wait for Victor’s permission.. Victor saw him and nodded his assent.

“Hey there,” Dean said quietly. “How ya’ doin’?” He sat down on the stage a few feet away from her.

“Oh, I’m just great, Dean-o! This was a good one for you to watch. What did you think?” She’d laid down on the black canvas and was stretched out like a cat.

“Honestly, I’m still processing. But I enjoyed the show, that’s a fact. It put some of my fears to rest. If being tied by Cas is anything like what I saw tonight, count me in, man!” he laughed quietly, trying to be respectful of Pam’s headspace.

“Oh, honey. Being tied by Cas is leagues beyond this. I’ve been tied by Cas twice, as a model. Granted, there was no emotional or sexual component. But the subspace was just as real, just as intense. If it was just as intense for me, without the sexual or emotional bits, how do you think it’s going to be for you, with those things?” She raised her eyebrow at him, with a smirk on her face.

Dean paled a little, thinking of the intensity that might be in store for him. He relaxed a little when Pam laughed at him, but not by much. He was certainly going to have to prepare himself fully whenever they decided to actually scene together.

He startled when he felt Cas’ hand on his shoulder. With a sheepish look, he glanced up at his Dom.

“Would you like to stay for a drink, or are you ready to go home?” Cas asked gently.

“I think I’m ready to go home,” he said. Turning to Pam he told her, “Thank you so much for the demonstration, and for talking with me about it. I’m just…wow. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Oh, shit…not like that,” he sputtered. “I meant…shit,” he said, putting his face in his hands.

Pam laughed loud, the sound filling the whole room. “I knew what you meant, hot stuff. Don’t worry about it. That’s one of the greatest things about kink. It gets you thinking about things you never would have on your own. I’m glad you enjoyed it. We perform once a month, but we’re usually here at least once a week. Come back and have a drink with us, yes?”

“Definitely,” and Dean meant it. He genuinely liked Pam, and Victor, too, and thought that he would like to one day call them friends.

Dean stood up, shook Victor’s hand, and turned to Cas.

“Let’s go home.”


	12. Chapter 11 Trading Places

The drive back to Castiel’s loft was both agonizingly slow and quiet. Castiel sensed that Dean had a lot on his mind, and didn’t blame the man for being introspective. The first time Castiel himself had witnessed Kinbaku, he had been speechless for hours. Castiel just couldn’t tell if it was a good quiet or a bad quiet, and he was afraid to ask.

The elevator ride was equally quiet, but the mood had shifted. Dean would look at Castiel when he thought the older man wasn’t paying attention, only to glance away when found out. Their shoulders bumped getting onto the elevator. Both reached for the floor button at the same time, brushing their fingers. As they both retracted their hands, their fingers remained in contact. They weren’t really holding hands, just touching.

It all had an almost innocent first date kind of feel to it. That awkward ‘should I kiss him or wait for him to kiss me’ feeling. Until they entered Castiel’s loft, that was. As soon as the door was shut and locked, Castiel turned Dean around and slammed him up against the door, pinning each wrist against the door above Dean’s head. Dean whined in the back of his throat at the treatment.

“I have the feeling you enjoyed the demonstration tonight, Dean. Is that correct?” Castiel’s hand was on Dean’s jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. Dean nodded in the affirmative. “Use your words, Dean.”

“Y-Yeah, I liked it. A lot.” Dean’s voice was mostly steady. Mostly. 

Castiel smirked and caressed along Dean’s neck. “I thought so. Did you like watching best, or were you fantasizing about that being you?”

Dean swallowed hard before replying. “Me...I wanted to be tied up. But not by him. And…” Dean closed his mouth and his eyes, as if he wanted to continue but was afraid to.

“And? Tell me, Dean,” Castiel said, gentle yet commanding. 

“And...I saw all those people watching. How excited they were. There were subs sucking their Doms off. I was wondering what it would feel like knowing that I caused that reaction in a whole room full of people.” Dean met Castiel’s eyes before quickly looking away again.

“Mmmmm,” Castiel cooed, “a little bit of an exhibitionist, are you?” His voice was teasing, but there was no malice in it. If anything, there was interest and excitement. Castiel did not share, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy showing his property off...showing how good his sub was. He would revisit that at a later date. For now, there were entirely too many clothes on their bodies.

Castiel leaned in and kissed Dean gently, barely brushing their lips together. Dean’s lips parted on a sigh, opening up for Castiel. He took control of the kiss, deepening it and owning Dean’s mouth completely. He could feel his lover’s body relax and sink into the attention. 

Breaking away from the kiss, Castiel grasped the monkey’s fist at Dean’s neck and led him into the bedroom. Once there, he led Dean straight to the window. The lights from the city were bright enough that Castiel didn’t even bother with candles. He settled in behind Dean and pressed up against him, resting his hands on Dean’s hips. A small gasp escaped Dean as his chest settled against the cool glass, encouraging Castiel to continue. While pressed against Dean’s back, Castiel slowly roamed his hands around to Dean’s belly and up his chest. He could feel the hard muscles underneath the t-shirt, and began tugging at the shirt, pulling it up and over Dean’s head, tossing it carelessly away. His hands continued their exploration of Dean’s body, lightly examining his back, shoulders, neck. He gently removed the rope collar, letting Dean know that he was not a sub tonight. Castiel wanted to go easy this evening, not push too many limits.

Castiel’s lips tracked the same path as his hands, only in reverse. Starting at Dean’s neck, he left little feather-light kisses. At the juncture of neck and shoulders, he bit down, eliciting a delicious moan from Dean that made Castiel’s dick twitch. Pausing for a brief moment to regain control of himself and breathe in Dean’s scent, Castiel continued, sucking little marks every few inches. They wouldn’t last more than a day, but they would be there in the morning.

Castiel turned Dean a little so he could reach his boyfriend’s chest with his lips. He nibbled and sucked at each nipple. Dean’s hands found their way into Cas’ hair, prompting him to suck harder. 

“Fuck, Cas, your mouth!” Dean said through harsh breaths.

“You like my mouth, Dean?” Castiel asked, standing up straight and pushing Dean up against the window. “You want to see what my mouth can do?” That earned a whine, making Castiel chuckle, low and dirty. Grasping Dean’s chin with one hand, he firmly brought Dean’s attention to him. “I don’t want to have to tell you again, Dean. Use your words.” 

“Fuck,” Dean groaned. “Your mouth, Cas. Want to feel your mouth on me.”

Castiel relaxed his grip on Dean’s chin only to caress his palm along the man’s cheek. “Where, Dean. Where would you like my mouth?” Castiel tilted his head as he admired the flush coloring Dean’s cheeks.

Dean squirmed, seeming reluctant to answer a question so boldly, reluctant to ask for what he wanted outright. Castiel’s hand traveled back to the nape of his neck and up, until he found hair long enough to grab onto.

“You’re not used to asking for what you want, are you?” Castiel asked, with wonder in his voice. When Dean shook his head, Castiel replied, “Well, we’ll just have to fix that, now won’t we? For the rest of the evening, nothing is going to happen unless you expressly ask for it. Are we clear?” Castiel examined Dean’s face for signs of uneasiness. Finding none, he waited patiently for his answer.

“Yes, Sir, we’re clear,” he stammered, a flush rising on his cheeks. 

“Another point, Dean, to be clear on. You are not a sub tonight, and I am not your Dom. Just for this evening. You do not need to call me Sir. You may, if that makes you more comfortable, but I do not require it. Okay?” Castiel kept his face neutral, not wishing to impose his preferences on Dean. He very much liked hearing Dean call him Sir. 

Dean nodded vigorously. Remembering the admonishment to use his words, Dean said in a rush, “Yeah, okay, sure. Got it. Not a sub.” It was obvious he’d had enough conversation and wanted to move things along. He ground his hips against Castiel’s to illustrate the point, moaning at the friction it created. 

“Answer the question, Dean, or you don’t get what you want.” Castiel spoke the words into Dean’s skin as he kissed and nipped along Dean’s jaw line, finally tugging on his earlobe with his teeth.

Breath hitching, Dean managed to get words out, disjointed as they were. “Your mouth, Cas. Want your mouth on me.”

“Where, Dean? Where would you like my mouth?” As if to emphasize the point, Castiel removed his mouth from Dean entirely. He smiled at the very expressive responding whine. But he didn’t give in and waited, looking Dean directly in the eye while he awaited a proper response. 

“Please, Cas, suck my cock. I want to feel your hot, wet mouth on me. God, Cas, I want to fuck your mouth, please let me fuck your mouth,” Dean began rambling and Castiel cut him off with a decidedly dirty roll of the hips.

Castiel rewarded Dean’s answer by tracing his lips along Dean’s jaw line, moving toward his ear. Breath ghosting along the shell of the ear, Cas whispered, “That’s my good boy.” Dean shivered, making Castiel chuckle. “You like it when I call you my good boy, don’t you?” he teased, nipping at the earlobe. He didn’t wait for an answer this time as he trailed his lips down the bolt of Dean’s jaw, across his pulse point, and nipped harshly at the man’s Adam’s apple. 

“Oh, fuck!” Dean moaned, his hands rhythmically grasping and releasing Castiel’s hips. 

Dean gasped when Castiel whirled him around, slammed him back against the window, and dropped to his knees. Castiel wondered if any of his previous Doms had ever truly taken care of him. Probably not, given that Dean seemed utterly surprised to see a Dom on his knees. Castiel would take great pleasure in filling that deficit. 

Castiel grasped Dean’s hands, long nimble fingers circling gently around his wrists. He slowly and deliberately moved Dean’s hands so the palms were flat against the cool glass of the window behind him. Fixing Dean with a heated look, he told the breathless man, “Stay.” A small gasp and quick nod of his head confirmed for Castiel that Dean was very happy to follow orders. 

Castiel trailed his hands from Dean’s chest down over his nipples, pinching them harshly. He

kissed down the line of hair trailing from Dean’s belly button, mouthing at his cock through the fabric of his jeans. He found the head and blew hot air, making Dean’s hips buck at the sensation. Castiel slowly and reverently removed the remainder of Dean’s clothes, kissing his hips and thighs as they were revealed. Dean was a quavering mess by the time Castiel approached his thick hard cock. Looking up at Dean through his eyelashes, he licked a thick stipe with the flat of his tongue from Dean’s ball sac up and up his length, before finally placing an open-mouthed kiss right at the tip.

Dean’s hands were clenching and releasing at the anticipation. Castiel relented after many kitten licks and kisses along his shaft. Dean gasped when Castiel took him completely, going to the root in one quick swallow.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean gasped, knocking his head back on the window. Castiel hummed at the encouragement and started bobbing and sucking Dean’s cock in earnest, occasionally swirling his tongue around the head. He fondled Dean’s balls, alternately rolling and squeezing them, eliciting a long and low moan. It had been awhile since Castiel had enjoyed giving head so much, so he was content to stay where he was for awhile.

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Dean was not. Cas was driving him crazy with the best blowjob he could ever remember getting. Dean was normally fairly quiet in the sack, so it surprised him when he was spewing a constant stream of moans, groans, oh fuck’s, and just straight up loud panting. He did his best to keep his hands where they were, but all he wanted to do was bury his hands in Cas’ hair and fuck his mouth. Then Cas’ words came back to him. Not a sub. Not a Dom. He chanted to himself,  _ “Not a sub, not a sub, not a sub,” _ until he finally believed it.

Decision made, he looked down at Cas, who was looking back at him with lust-blown eyes, and smirked. “Not a sub,” he whispered, just loud enough for Cas to hear. Cas’ eyes widened as Dean thrust his hands into Cas’ hair and clenched, just this side of painful. Drawing Cas’ mouth off his dick, he bent over and breathed next to Cas’ ear, “Not a sub. I’m going to fuck your pretty little mouth. Tell me now if you don’t want that.” He drew back, looking for Castiel’s reply.

All Cas did was meet Dean’s gaze, fiery and hungry, and opened his mouth wide. Dean groaned at the sight and nudged Cas toward his cock, tipping it down with his other hand to aim it right at Cas’ waiting mouth. Cas closed his eyes and swirled his tongue around Dean to encourage him. Dean started slowly, not wanting to hurt the man. With each stroke he got further and further into Castiel’s mouth, opening up his throat to get it used to the intrusion. Soon, Cas was taking almost all of Dean’s length. Dean gently placed his hand on Cas’ throat, feeling his cock slide in and out. That was the hottest fucking thing Dean had seen in a long time. Arousal shot through him and when he felt Cas’ hands on his ass pulling him forward, he lost all restraint and really set to fucking the man’s mouth, occasionally holding Cas still, with his nose resting against Dean’s skin. The squelching sounds of Dean’s cock hitting the back of Cas’ throat, the long strings of saliva spilling to the floor, and the tears streaming down his face pushed Dean toward the point of no return.

“Face or swallow?” Dean demanded. Castiel pushing Dean away from him roughly was his answer.

Dean yanked Cas’ head back by the hair, stroked his cock one, two, three times, then shot his load all over Castiel’s face, ribbons of white streaking across his cheeks, neck, and waiting tongue. Castiel let out a pleased hum as he licked his lips, avidly watching as Dean stroked himself through his aftershocks, squeezing the last of his release right onto Cas’ lips.

“Shit,” Dean bit out, as Cas’ tongue grazed his sensitive head. “That was so fucking hot.” He bent down to kiss Cas, tasting himself mixed with Castiel’s unique flavor. Feeling kinky, Dean knelt down and started licking his come off Cas’ face, slowly feeding it to him. Castiel swallowed every bit eagerly.

When Castiel’s face was clean, Dean helped him stand and buried his face in the crook of Cas’ neck. “You are amazing,” he said quietly. “No one’s ever done that for me. Thank you,” he finished, lightly kissing Cas’ neck.

“You’re welcome, Dean,” he said, caressing his hands up and down Dean’s back. “At first I wanted to swallow, but I’ve never had anyone come on my face before and I wanted to try it. I have to admit, it  _ was _ pretty fucking hot,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, it was definitely hot. But we’re not done yet,” Dean growled. He started yanking Castiel’s clothes off, touching as much skin as he could along the way. Dean crowded into Cas’ space, guiding him backward toward the bed. As the back of Castiel’s knees hit the mattress, Dean shoved until Cas was on his back, spread eagle. Dean slowly crawled up Cas’ body and helped him hitch up so his head was on the pillows. He straddled Cas’ thighs and settled his hands on either side of Castiel’s head, leaning down to kiss him stupid. 

“Lube?” Dean asked in between nips at Cas’ lips. Castiel pointed to the nightstand, breath hitching and hips rolling. Once Dean had the bottle in hand, he smirked at Cas. “Here’s how this is gonna go, angel. I’m gonna open myself up while sucking your cock and you’re gonna watch. Now, I know you can be good and not touch, right? Can you be a good boy, Cas?” Dean said, practically purring the words  _ good boy _ . He relished the whimper, as well as the excitement over being the cause. 

“Yes, Dean, God yes, I’ll be good,” Cas cried out, chest heaving and sweaty. 

Dean winked at Cas and turned his body around so he was straddling Cas’ chest, face at cock level. The snick of the bottle opening rang out in the quiet room, the sound of their breathing the only accompaniment. Dean used his left hand to knock Cas’ legs apart and planted it on the bed in between to hold himself up. As he bent down over Castiel’s cock and licked a long stripe down the underside, he reached behind himself and started enthusiastically opening himself with the slicked up fingers of his right hand. 

♢♦♢♦♢♦

“Oh, fuck,” Castiel groaned. He couldn’t decide between closing his eyes, losing himself in the feeling of his dick surrounded by wet heat, and avidly watching Dean’s fingers disappearing into his tight hole. 

Watching Dean open himself up won out. It was certainly one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. It was like he had a live porno in his lap, every little moan and gasp sending vibrations up his shaft and through his balls. The squelching sound of Dean’s lubed fingers working his hole was just obscene and it drove Castiel wild.

Castiel hadn’t thought much about Dean’s instruction not to touch until his thighs were straddling Castiel’s chest, pink pucker within licking distance. As Dean added a third finger to the mix, a particularly filthy moan reverberated around Castiel’s cock, forcing him to fist the sheets lest he break the rules. Castiel knew what it was like to be a sub, to be denied or restricted with rules. He’d enjoyed it at the time, but he hadn’t subbed after he started Domming. He’d never found a partner he was willing to switch for so he really hadn’t thought about it in ages.

Dean was making him rethink that decision. The man may not actually be a Dom, but he was dominating the hell out of Castiel in that moment. Castiel had never met a Dominant bottom before, but he had no doubt that, if Dean chose, he’d make an incredible Dom for the right person. Castiel was sure he’d like the chance to fill that role.

It was also a good reminder that he’d gotten too far into his Dom persona. He’d stepped over the line, considering how hard he’d tried to make it clear to Dean that they were not playing that night. He felt a bit chagrined at his own slip; at the same time he was relieved that Dean had the initiative to call him on it. That act alone relieved some of his worries about Dean’s previous...experiences.

Castiel descended into the fog of lust and sexual energy, lost in his own thoughts and the sensations of pleasure and pressure...building pressure. He briefly wondered if one’s brains really could be sucked out one’s dick, and chuckled inwardly at the image. Just when he thought he couldn’t stand it anymore, Dean popped off his dick and grabbed it tightly around the base. Castiel came down to earth enough to hear that Dean was talking to him and tried his best to listen.

“Not yet, angel, I’m not through with you,” he shot over his shoulder with a wicked grin. “Enjoying the view?”

It took several tries for Castiel to answer and when he did, it came out hoarse and barely above a whisper. “Immensely, Dean, immensely. Please, continue,” he said. “For the love of all that is holy, please continue,” he repeated, mostly to himself, but Dean heard him and laughed, returning to his task of reducing Castiel to a blubbering pile of goo.

Dean must have decided he was ready, because the next moment he removed his fingers. Castiel watched his hole gape for an instant before it started to clench, seeking to be filled again. Castiel nearly sobbed at the sight. 

Dean turned around and straddled Castiel’s groin. With his hand on Castiel’s chest, he leaned down and licked the shell of Castiel’s ear. “Now’s where it  _ really _ gets fun,” Dean said, low and breathy. He looked Castiel in the face and said, “I’m gonna ride you till you scream my name. That okay with you? Sir?” he teased with an impish grin, raising one eyebrow in a challenge.

“Oh, fuck, yes, Dean, please,” he begged as Dean nibbled at his ear, trailing down his neck, sucking at the spot where Castiel’s neck met his shoulder. The harder Dean sucked, the harder Castiel panted. Every neuron was firing and Castiel was so lost in pleasure that he couldn’t form a coherent thought. 

Dean slicked up his hand with more lube and gave Castiel several mind-numbing strokes before raising up, lining Castiel’s cock up with his hole, and slowly, oh so slowly sinking down. Stars flashed behind Castiel’s eyes. The hot warmth surrounding him was nearly unbearable, and the sounds coming from him were unintelligible at best. His hands clenched and released with the effort of not touching. He hadn’t been given permission to touch yet and the desire to please Dean by being good and following directions hit him like a freight train. It had been nine years since he’d felt anything like that, but it had been nowhere near this level. It consumed Castiel, everything else falling away. His world narrowed down to a pinpoint focus.

“Dean,” he moaned, not being able to tear his eyes away from Dean’s while the man gyrated his ass in a most depraved way. “Please…touch, need to touch you” he tried again, breath hitching as Dean started bouncing on his cock, whipping his hips forward and back like an exotic dancer on the pole. He was doing his best not to thrust up into Dean when he remembered his instructions. To not touch. Dean said nothing about not moving. The realization was like a cold drink on a hot day and he started barely rocking into Dean, meeting him stroke for stroke.

Dean didn’t admonish him, in fact he threw his head back, slackjawed, eyes half lidded, fingers digging into Castiel’s thighs as he leaned backward, effectively angling himself so Castiel hit his prostate on practically every thrust. His hips moved faster, harder, encouraging Castiel to spread his legs and plant his feet on the bed. He began pounding up into Dean, wrenching a startled cry from him. Dean leaned back, grabbing Castiel’s knees for balance, and whipped his hips up and down, the sounds of flesh slapping on flesh adding to the dirty symphony playing around them. 

“Touch me, Cas, please,” Dean moaned in between punched out cries every time Castiel hit his prostate. 

Castiel could not find it in himself to deny Dean, so he didn’t even hesitate to wrap his hand around the gorgeous thick cock that had been bouncing and slapping against his stomach. He stopped for a moment, earning a petulant whine from Dean that made him chuckle, and swiped his hand through the pool of pre-come that had gathered near his navel. When his hand returned to it’s job, he was rewarded with a guttural moan as Dean worked ever harder to fuck into Castiel’s hand and back onto his cock. 

Castiel took advantage of gaining permission to roam his free hand over the glorious expanse of skin spread out above him. His fingers pressed, caressed, and explored every bit of Dean’s beautiful body that he could reach, not able to get their fill. Castiel didn’t think he would ever get his fill of anything related to Dean. 

Dean’s hips started to stutter as his release neared, so Castiel tightened his grip and flicked his wrist around the head of Dean’s cock.

“Fuck, yeah Cas, that’s it, just like that. I’m gonna...gonna come, Cas, can’t hold it, fuck fuck fuck!” Dean yelled as his cock swelled in Castiel’s hand seconds before it began spasming and spurting come. Dean had stilled, but Castiel continued thrusting up into Dean slowly and gently to work him through his orgasm. 

Dean caught his breath while nuzzling Castiel’s jaw and neck, finally pulling away enough to whisper in his ear.

“Fuck me, Cas. Make me feel it for a week. Fill me up, mark me,” he breathed, and grunted loudly when Castiel wrapped his hands around Dean’s shoulders from behind to hold him still and set a punishing pace, chasing his own orgasm.

Castiel wasn’t very far away, but he tried his best to last longer. He didn’t want this feeling to end, being buried in Dean’s ass as it clenched tight around him, surrounded by Dean’s body, his scent, and his voice as he cried out with each slap of Castiel’s balls against his ass.

Finally, not able to hold it off any longer, Castiel dug his fingernails into Dean’s shoulders, gaining a spasm of Dean’s fucked-out hole around his cock and pushing him over the edge. 

“Dean!” Castiel shouted, as the floodgates opened and the euphoria of his release washed over him. Dean slowly circled his hips, gentling Castiel through the aftershocks. His breathing eventually slowed, as did his racing heart, but he didn’t let go of Dean. He was content to have Dean laying on top of him, his fingers working lazy patterns on Dean’s back and his cock still buried in Dean’s ass.

“That was,” Castiel started, but was unable to find the words to express the physical sensations, never mind the emotional.

“Yeah, it was,” Dean murmured against Castiel’s neck. “It really was.” After another minute, Dean sighed and pushed himself up when Castiel’s cock slipped out of him. “Stay here,” he said, punctuating it with a kiss to the nose.

Castiel watched as Dean climbed off the bed and sauntered over to the bathroom. Castiel couldn’t help the moan that escaped at the sight of his come dribbling down the insides of Dean’s thighs, glistening in the moonlight.

Dean came back with a warm wet washcloth and cleaned Castiel. He then crawled into bed, nestled against Castiel and kissed him. Castiel wrapped his arms around his lover, holding tight while they made out lazily until they fell asleep.


	13. Chapter 12 Breakfast at Tiffany's

Dean woke slowly, with a pleasant warmth on his face. He smiled, thinking Cas must have left the blinds open the night before, then chuckled inwardly at how miffed Cas would be when the sunlight forced him awake much earlier than was preferable. A quiet clacking noise caught his attention, but Dean decided to ignore it. He wasn’t ready to be awake yet, either.

The clacking noise had other ideas, though. When it sounded for the third time, Dean finally had enough.  _ For fuck’s sake, _ he thought to himself.  _ I can’t even sleep in on vacation. _ He buried his head in the pillow and groaned quietly, not wanting to wake Cas.

“Took you long enough. I’ve been staring at your ass for half an hour. Not that that was a hardship, by any means,” an unfamiliar voice said, out of nowhere.

Dean’s head shot up, looking toward the voice. The person belonging to the voice was sitting in the windowsill with a sucker in his mouth. That explained the clacking noise.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Dean demanded while he pulled the covers over his and Cas’ naked bodies. He nudged Cas as discreetly as he could. Given his own past with shady people, Dean really hoped his boyfriend knew this prick.

“Gabriel. You must be Dean. I’ll admit, this was not a side of you I expected to see. Hoped for, sure. Dreamt about, you bet. Seems like Christmas has come early, hot stuff,” the man, Gabriel, responded with a wink, before lewdly mouthing what looked like a Blow Pop.

“Gabriel...you mean...fuck. Cas, wake up. Your dick brother’s been staring at my ass for half an hour,” Dean groused, irritated at the intrusion. Dean shook Cas hard this time, getting a very irritated grumble from the other side of the bed.

“What timezit?” Cas asked, poking his head out of the covers like a groundhog, testing the environment to see if it was worth the effort of staying above ground. Noticing the presence of his brother, Cas rolled his eyes and sat up straight and put a protective hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Gabriel,” he said, a warning tone in his voice warring with the first morning gravel. Dean thought it was cute. “Please tell me what is so important that you would violate the privacy of my bedroom?”

Dean was impressed with the bitchface his boyfriend threw at their intruder. Given Sam’s heavyweight bitchface skills, that’s saying something! Dean vacillated between waiting for Gabriel’s answer because he’s curious and asking the man to leave the room so maybe he can put on some pants. He knew Gabriel was not a real threat and Dean was not super self-conscious of his body, so curiosity won out. He laid back down to wait out the conversation, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Where is all this hostility coming from? Can’t a guy visit the brother he hasn’t seen in weeks without getting the Supreme Bitchface?” Gabriel feigned being hurt, clutching at his obscenely orange t-shirt with the phrase ‘Cupcakes are flamboyant muffins’ writ in large, ornate lettering, which was done in a rainbow-colored foil. Dean had the feeling that Gabriel’s choice of wardrobe this morning spoke volumes about his personality.

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly. “Gabriel, if you abused the key privilege just to get a look at Dean’s ass, I swear to God I will tell Kali about that time in New York.”

Gabriel gasped dramatically, hand to his chest, “You wouldn’t  _ dare _ ! No, wait...you’re related to me, you totally would. Okay, point taken. The reason I dropped by is that you never said yay or nay to brunch today. I took that as a yay, sue me,” he finished, popping the Blow Pop back in his mouth with a cheeky grin. “Getting a good long look at Ken doll’s ass was merely coincidence. Delicious, tasty coincidence.”

“Brunch? What’s he talking about, Cas?”

Dean hadn’t even thought about meeting any of Cas’ family, despite being in his hometown, let alone having a meal with them. Although, he supposed it was only fair. Dean introduced Castiel to most of his surrogate family before they were even technically dating. He also saw Gabriel’s intrusion for what it really was. Big brother protectiveness. He could respect that. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t give the asshat shit about it.

“Dean, this is my brother Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Dean. Gabriel requested that we join him this morning for brunch. It slipped my mind, I apologize. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’m sure Gabriel will find other opportunities to ridicule me,” Castiel replied dryly, giving his brother the stink eye.  

“Brunch, hunh? I could go for some food,” he said. “Course, I could also go for some pants.”

“Aww, Deano, clothes are overrated,” Gabriel snarked.

“Gabriel, I have no patience for your antics today. We will meet you at Clarke’s in an hour. Agreed?” Dean could hear the edge in Cas’ voice, an edge that can only come from interacting with family.

Gabriel must have heard it, too, because he backed off a bit. “Sure thing, little bro. Clarke’s, one hour. Laters!”

Dean chuckled as he watched Gabriel actually sashay out of the room. Both men waited quietly until they heard the front door clicking shut.

“So, that’s your twin brother, eh?” Dean said, wrapping his arms around Cas, nuzzling his neck.

Cas leaned into the touch and sighed. “Yes, that’s my twin. Believe it or not, he’s much better than the rest of my family. Are you sure you’re okay doing this?” he asked, turning his head to place little kitten kisses along Dean’s jugular.

Dean practically purred at the attention. He wasn’t used to a lover being so attentive, so focused on making him feel good. He sure could get used to it, though. “Yeah, we’re good. Let’s get in the shower before your brother decides to interrupt again.”

“Agreed,” Cas replied before leading Dean to the bathroom.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Dean distracted him with a blowjob in the shower, taking the edge off the rude awakening. They made it to Clarke’s a little bit late, but Castiel didn’t give a shit. Especially after hearing Dean’s reaction to the meal he’d ordered. Declaring the burger to be  _ almost _ as good as Ellen’s, high praise indeed, he demolished the thing in no time.

Oddly enough, Dean and Gabriel got along very well. Chalk it up to being big brothers or both liking to play practical jokes...whatever it was, Castiel felt grateful that his brother and lover got along well. He really did love Gabriel, and secretly wanted his approval. Though he’d die a horrible death before admitting it out loud. Because, Gabriel.

Gabriel was even on good behavior and only brought up becoming Dean’s manager once. Dean told him to call in six months, when his contract with Bela ran out, because buying out his contract was prohibitively expensive. They shook on it and Gabriel actually shut up about it. The shit-eating grin spoke volumes, though.

After lunch, Castiel took Dean to the Art Institute of Chicago, where they perused the sculpture exhibits. Castiel took great pleasure in watching Dean enjoy himself, moving from piece to piece like a child at Disneyland, explaining the various styles and materials of the artists. The open joy on Dean’s face was something Castiel could honestly say he’d never forget.

They stopped at the grocery store on the way home because Dean insisted on cooking Cas dinner, and he wanted to take advantage of the huge kitchen. They were planning on spending a quiet evening at home, getting to know each other better. Dean had to leave the next morning and they wanted to enjoy each other as much as possible.

While the chicken was marinating, Dean opened up his laptop to go through the week’s video footage.

“What’s that?” Castiel asked, coming up behind Dean and lightly massaging his shoulders. He was secretly enjoying the domesticity of it all. He’d felt that way yesterday, but it was much stronger today.

“It’s the paranoia I was telling you about,” he said, watching the screen as images flew by. “I have an intense security system that was built by my friend Charlie. It’s actually how I met her. There are cameras all over the warehouse and the land. The system is not motion activated, it constantly records and saves to a secure cloud server. There’s a safety net set up that I go through the footage every Sunday night on fast forward. I delete the irrelevant stuff and send suspicious stuff to Charlie. If I haven’t gone through the footage by midnight, the system alerts Charlie. If she can’t get a hold of me, she calls the cops,” he explained, continuing to watch the footage.

“Wow, that’s...detailed,” Castiel remarked.

“Told you. Paranoid.” Dean sounded distracted. It seemed that he’d found something on the footage that had his attention.

“See, there’s a car I don’t recognize. Normally I wouldn’t care, but it happened last week and this time someone got out of the car and walked around my place. I’m isolated enough that people pretty much come to my place on purpose.” He saved the clip and sent it to Charlie, deleting the rest.

While the men enjoyed their dinner, which Castiel thought was amazing, they talked about a lot of different things. Castiel told Dean about growing up in a religious household with domineering parents. Castiel’s mother was the uptight one about religion and espoused the ‘proper Christian behavior’ all their lives. She didn’t outright disown Castiel when he came out, but she stuck her head in the sand and still refuses to acknowledge that part of his life.

Castiel enjoyed Dean’s stories about Sam the most. It solidified the feeling that family was everything to Dean. He got the impression that he didn’t really open himself up readily—all the stories he told were about people he loved, and only superficially about himself—but he was very proud and protective of his chosen family and would go to the ends of the earth for them.

At some point during the evening, Castiel got out two boxes and presented them to Dean. The first was fairly long and wide, but not very tall. It resembled a formal dress box, but it was black and made of a lightweight wood. He told Dean to open the box. Inside was a dozen smaller boxes, all black, in different shapes and sizes. Each had a number embossed on the top. The attention to detail was just another example of how Castiel enjoyed taking care of and spoiling his submissive.

“You are not to open any of these boxes without permission.” He handed Dean a dark green 12-sided die and said, “Keep this safe. It is the key to your pleasure for the foreseeable future.”

“How so?” Dean asked a little hesitantly.

“That’s on a need-to-know basis. Right now, all you need to know is that you must not lose the die and that you will enjoy every item in the box,” he said, with a lascivious grin. Dean gulped and nodded his head, so Castiel moved on to the other box. There was a slight gasp from Dean, presumably at the detail of the box.

This box was handmade with intricate carvings along the edges resembling rope. It would have a decidedly nautical bent to it, if one wasn’t familiar with Shibari or BDSM. The wood was stained a dark cherry and was shaped like a miniature foot locker. Handles on either side of the box were fashioned out of deep green hemp rope that had been worked to a silken softness.

Castiel set it on the coffee table in front of Dean and opened the lid. “This is an aftercare kit. Do you know what that is, Dean?”

“I can guess. It’s for when we scene long distance, right?” Dean said, peeking through the contents of the box.

“Yes, that’s correct,” he smiled warmly. “I’ve gathered from our discussions that you don’t have much experience with aftercare. I want to make sure that you are taken care of, that there are protections in place should you drop without me there.” Castiel sat next to Dean and prompted him to peruse through the contents.

There was a bottle of water, a juicebox of apple juice, a chocolate bar, a t-shirt with his cologne on it, arnica gel, instant hot and cold packs, and a very soft microfiber blanket. There were also unscented baby wipes, warm socks, a basic first-aid kit, and a leather-bound journal. Inside was a smaller box that contained the entire Indiana Jones series—because duh, Harrison Ford—a sports drink to replace electrolytes, bath oil, and a container of trail mix.

“Cas, what is all this stuff?” Dean sounded confused.

“The larger box is standard aftercare supplies. Things to replace nutrients you lost, first aid things to alleviate aches and pains, and comfort items to deal with the inevitable endorphin drop that occurs after a scene. Normally, I’d be with you to encourage you and support you emotionally so the physical consequences aren’t unpleasant. Being separated, though, we will have to be more diligent about supporting your needs. The smaller kit consists of more directed items in case you drop. I would encourage you to supplement both kits with items of comfort to you. As we scene and learn more about each other’s responses and needs, the kits will be altered as needed. Do you have any questions?”

Castiel was concerned that he’d overwhelmed Dean with information and that it was all too much too soon. After all, they’d only known each other eight days at that point. Granted, both felt a very intense connection from the get go, but both men had also expressed wonder and not a small amount of trepidation at just how quickly things went from a professional relationship to kink negotiation.

“No, no questions. At least, I can’t think of any right now. It’s a lot to process, honestly. I…” he paused, trying to find either the right words or the courage to say the words on his mind. “I still can’t really wrap my head around the whole aftercare thing. I’ve always taken care of myself after a scene. I get that some people need it, but I never have.” Dean crossed his arms defensively.

“Hey, I’m not saying you can’t take care of yourself, and I’m not saying that you haven’t done a good job so far,” Castiel began, taking Dean’s face in both hands and looking him in the eye. “I’m saying that you don’t have to when it comes to this. It is part of my role as a Dominant to take care of you, to ensure that your needs are met during a scene and after. But, more than that, it is my desire to take care of you, to make you feel good. Will you allow me to take care of you?” Cas pleaded.

Dean leaned his forehead against Castiel’s and sighed deeply. “I will do my best, Cas. I’m used to being the one taking care of other people. I can’t promise that I won’t push back or resist, but I am willing to try. Can that be good enough? Please tell me it’s good enough,” he finished with a pleading tone.

“Oh, Dean, kitten, of course it’s enough!”

Dean whimpered at the nickname as Castiel straddled his lap and brought their lips together. The kiss was slow and deliberate. Neither deepened it, but relaxed into it, each accepting the comfort of the other. Between kisses Castiel whispered praise and endearments, telling Dean that he was more than good enough and that he was such a lucky Dom to have a kitten as wonderful as Dean.

After a few minutes, Castiel backed off Dean’s lap and stood up, offering his hand. “Come. I’d like to show you something.”

Dean followed as Castiel led him into the bedroom, turning off lights as they went. He made sure Dean’s alarm was set for the morning, then slowly, agonizingly slowly, undressed Dean. He carefully folded each item and set it in a neat pile near Dean’s duffle. By the time he was naked, Dean’s breath had quickened measurably. Castiel went to a chest near the bed and removed a skein of thin, dark blue, silk rope. While walking leisurely over to Dean, he unwound the rope, letting the ends trail behind him. Stopping in front of Dean, Castiel trailed the rope over his skin, letting the sub feel the drag of the silk on his sensitive nipples. Dean gasped and nodded briefly at his questioning look.

Castiel spoke softly as he explained what he was doing. The tie was called a [ tortoise shell](http://66.media.tumblr.com/d8deb6504e20bc42cab22bc93bead025/tumblr_nsgmajbPfz1tzaquyo10_1280.jpg) and was a harness that went around his torso, between his legs, and bound his arms behind his back. Castiel explained that the bottom part, that went between his legs and around his cock, could be left off for a self-tie while he traveled, to alleviate anxiety.

As Castiel started to form a pattern and cinch the rope tighter, Dean’s breath came fast and shallow, his mouth hung open slightly, and he had the beginnings of a glassy look in his eyes.

“Do you like the rope, Dean? Do you like the way it feels on your skin?” Castiel purred in Dean’s ear.

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “Makes my skin sing.”

Dean sounded far away, but if he was coherent enough to sound poetic, Castiel felt that Dean wasn’t totally in sub space. That was just fine with him. He wanted to go slow, not put Dean in the completely euphoric state just yet. Not until he knew how Dean would react.

Finished with the chest harness portion of the tie, he ordered Dean to put his arms behind his back, holding on to his elbows. Castiel used the remaining rope to bind one forearm to the other and closed off the tie.

Castiel kept his voice low and quiet, almost hypnotic, so as not to disrupt Dean’s headspace. He wasn’t sure how fragile Dean’s state was, if he was easily knocked out of it.

“You look so beautiful like this, Dean. Miles of beautiful tan skin stretched over muscles defined from hard work. The rope looks beautiful wrapping around your body, your arms. Do you like to have your arms tied together like this?”

Dean whimpered.

Castiel lightly trailed the tip of his finger up the length of Dean’s rock hard cock. “So hard, Dean. Your dick is standing tall and proud, just waiting to be touched. God, Dean, you are picture perfect. So good. Can you move over to the bed for me?”

He lightly guided Dean to kneel on the edge of the bed with his back facing out. He stood right behind Dean, chest to back, and whispered in Dean’s ear.

“I’m going to open you slowly, fucking you with my fingers until you beg for my cock. Then I’m going to slide into your hot hole and fuck you into the mattress. You are going to come on my cock or not at all, and only after I’ve given you permission. I will let you come, you’ve been such a good boy, trying something new for me. But that orgasm is mine. I say when it happens.”

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Dean groaned loudly at Cas’ words. Who knew he had such a filthy mouth! Dean nearly came at the words whispered in his ear and had to bite the inside of his cheek to distract him from the fire building in his gut.

He felt a hand press gently but insistently between his shoulder blades until he was head down, ass up on the bed, arms bound behind him. He turned his face to the side and heard a drawer open, followed by the snick of a bottle of lube being opened. He gasped when a slick finger began circling his hole. A quiet whine escaped when the finger dipped in past the ring of muscles.

“You may speak, Dean. I want to hear you. Don’t hold back.” It wasn’t fair. Cas’ voice sounded like this didn’t affect him so much. Affect him as much as Dean was affected. Permission given, though, Dean let go. His body relaxed into the comforter, arching his back and pushing his ass into the air.

“Please, Cas, need you, need you to touch me,” Dean begged. He flexed and clenched his fingers, the only part of his torso he could move. Desire itched through his body and every time he squirmed a little, the rope tugged on his skin. The pressure calmed his nerves and felt almost like a hug, keeping him safe.

Cas murmured praise and caressed Dean’s back and ass while he opened Dean. He was gentle at first, but the more he grazed Dean’s prostate, teasing the man, the more vocal Dean became, pushing back onto Cas’ fingers.

Cas laughed lowly and began to fuck Dean in earnest. Every once in awhile, he would slow the pace and tap one finger against Dean’s prostate. Not rubbing or pressing, but tapping an undetermined rhythm. It was the last straw and the dam broke, a slew of moans and words pouring out. Dean would probably be embarrassed at the voracity of his begging, but at the moment all he wanted was for Cas to fuck him senseless. He told Cas as much and was immediately rewarded with the pressure of Castiel’s cockhead nudging against his hole.

“Please, Cas,” Dean panted out, “don’t tease me. I need your cock, fuck me hard, want to feel you for days!”

Dean felt Cas’ hands grip his hips as he pushed forward steadily. Both mean groaned in unison. Dean pushed back a little onto Cas’ cock, letting him know he could move. Cas set a quick and brutal pace, like a horse exploding from the gates.

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Every whimper, whine, moan and gasp made Castiel feel things he’d never thought possible. Sure, he was lusting for this man more than he ever had in the past. More than that, though, was the intense desire to make Dean feel good emotionally as well as physically. This wasn’t just sexual gratification for him. He needed to show Dean what proper BDSM was about, that getting off while being spanked wasn’t the extent of the practice; he also needed to show Dean that the trauma he’d gone through was a rare occurrence in the lifestyle.

Dean signalled his readiness by begging for Castiel’s cock. Castiel was more than happy to oblige and instantly rewarded him for expressing his desires. He’d promised Dean he’d fuck him into the mattress and he set about doing just that, hard and fast. One hand gripped Dean’s hip, fingers digging into the flesh. He hoped they left marks. With the other hand, Castiel held on tight to the rope that formed a line down Dean’s back, linking to his arms. Cas used his grip on the rope as leverage to pull Dean into his thrusts, burying his length to the hilt every time.

“God, Dean, you feel so good on my cock. Can’t take my eyes off you, so fucking beautiful.” He felt his balls pulling tight against his body and knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Do you need to come, Dean? Do you think you can come untouched?”

“Fuck, Cas. God, I can’t—” Dean stuttered, “I can’t hold it. Please, can I come?  _ Please! _ ”

Castiel twisted his hand in the ropes, making them bite into Dean’s skin; at the same time he leaned over and growled one word into Dean’s ear. “Come.” He yanked the ropes and Dean cried out, ribbons of come splattering on the comforter.

Castiel was close and had been staving off his orgasm until Dean had his release. The silken muscles milking Cas rhythmically pushed him over the edge, though, filling Dean and marking him from the inside.

Castiel came back to himself quickly and immediately started removing the rope from Dean. As he released his arms, Castiel rubbed the circulation back into them, checking for damage or any indications that he had been too rough. Dean was incoherent for the cleanup process, mostly just laying there, allowing Castiel to move him this way and that, cleaning him with a warm wet washcloth and tucking him under the covers. He set about getting a few apple slices and a small bottle of water from the kitchen. After making sure the blinds were closed, he got in bed and prompted Dean to eat and drink. He held Dean and rubbed along his arms and back in a soothing pattern, waiting patiently for him to come back.

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Dean was floating, barely aware of Cas removing the ropes and wiping him down. He was euphoric and that was a new sensation for him. He’d have to think about it more...later. Right now he was enjoying being cradled in Cas’ arms and nuzzling his neck.

“Mmmm, shit, Cas. That was...that was amazing,” he murmured, once he was capable of speech.

“I’m in agreement with you, Dean. You did so well, I’m so proud of you,” he replied, kissing Dean’s temple.

“Is that what you meant by aftercare?” Dean asked, curious. “I mean, the juice, the snack, cleaning me up...all of it?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas replied quietly. “It saddens me that you have never experienced that before. At the same time, I am grateful to be able to provide that for you. To be the only one to do that for you.” He tightened his arms briefly around Dean in a hug, then turned out the lights and settled into the blankets.

“Thank you, Castiel.” Dean hoped that, by using Cas’ given name, the Dom would get the picture that it was a big deal for him.

Because it was.

He was always taking care of other people. No one, ever, had had their attention entirely on Dean, taking care of his needs. It made a knot loosen in his chest and he found that he trusted Cas more because of it.

“I didn’t...I was…” He swallowed hard, needing to tell Cas but unable to find the words.

Cas stroked his cheek gently and waited quietly. He didn’t try to push Dean or question him. He just waited, understanding that whatever Dean had to say was both very important and difficult to express.

Emboldened by Cas’ patience, Dean powered on. “I was afraid. Of the rope. Of submitting. I know you said that I wasn’t a sub last night, but I associate that with bottoming. And I haven’t done that since...for two years, before last night. I was afraid that I’d freak out by being tied up. Cas, it’s never felt like that before. It...you made me feel safe.” He stopped for a moment to take a breath and gather his thoughts. Swallowing hard, he continued quietly, “It helped me let go. That’s not something I do. For me, I think subbing is about letting go and not having to make all the decisions for once. But I’ve never been able to let go like this before. So, thank you for that.” He burrowed further into Cas’ arms, hopefully projecting that he was talked out.

“You’re welcome, Dean,” he said, tightening his hold on him. “And thank you for telling me what it meant to you. You’ve given me a gift and I promise I will not waste it.” He kissed Dean’s forehead and nuzzled his nose into Dean’s hair.

Both men fell quiet and soon they had slipped into a content slumber.


	14. Chapter 13 Graduation Day

The next three weeks passed in a blur of engines, sheet metal, and shots as Dean threw himself into work in an effort to stave off the loneliness. He wasn’t used to feeling that way, other than missing Sam, and he wasn’t used to missing someone he was in a relationship with. Hell, he wasn’t used to being in a relationship. It wasn’t entirely new territory, what with his relationship with Lisa, but he’d never had a relationship like this before. Dean looked forward to every text, every phone call, every Skype session with an enthusiasm and longing he’d never felt before. 

He flat out missed Castiel.

They hadn’t yet made plans to see each other again, just because Cas’ photography schedule was always in flux. His gallery opening in August was looming, so Cas spent more and more time with his editing software and in the university’s darkroom. He also had one more scheduled shoot for the exhibit. This was all in addition to his day job of freelancing. He never knew where he’d be week to week. But he made the effort to text Dean several times throughout the day, even if it was just a good morning message, and they always talked on the phone at night, even if it was just a quick five minute ‘I needed to hear your voice and I miss you’ passed back and forth.

There had been a few Skype calls that stuck out in Dean’s memory. And his spank bank. 

One particular Skype session, during which Cas edged Dean for three hours, was by far the hottest phone sex Dean had ever had. Just remembering the authority in Cas’ voice when he firmly called out, “Stop,” had Dean shivering whenever he thought of it. 

He was currently not allowed to use said spank bank, however, seeing as how he was not allowed to get himself off. Besides the no sharing rule, Cas had instituted the policy that he, and he alone, owned Dean’s orgasms. That meant that Dean could not come without explicit permission from his Dom. At first, Dean thought no problem. He could control himself. At least, that’s what he’d thought when he’d agreed to the rule. Cas was getting good at reading Dean, though, because he’d wait until Dean was just reaching his breaking point before allowing him to come. It was deliciously frustrating, but Dean enjoyed being pushed to his limits, and even beyond.

Now, as he was finishing up his last shift at the shop before leaving for California, he was on edge. He was excited to be seeing Sammy again, certainly, but that involved voluntarily locking himself in a flying tin can death trap. He’d renewed his anti-anxiety prescription several days prior, but he wasn’t taking his chances. 

Dean had practiced the self-tie Cas had taught him. He’d even worn it to work several times just to make sure it wouldn’t chafe. A few days before the trip, Cas made sure Dean remembered how to tie himself, talking him through it several times on Skype. Cas’ deep, soothing voice as he instructed Dean was burned into his memory. Anytime he wore the harness from then on, he would hear his Dom’s voice in his head, guiding him, taking care of him, wrapping around him just as the rope did. He’d even sent Dean a present—a skein of deep blue silk rope in a small diameter that was perfect for the chest harness self-tie. It was small enough to hide under his clothes while on the airplane to California. 

Dean was finishing up his last minute packing when Cas called, asking if he had time for a Skype session. That could be one of two things: a ‘we have to talk’ conversation, or a scene. Dean was hoping for the life of him for the latter, but a little niggling suspicion of doubt just wouldn’t leave him. He agreed to the Skype, if anything just to allay his fears. 

Once on the computer, Dean was completely out of any sort of control. Dom Castiel showed up from the very get go, ordering Dean to grab the surprise box, place it on the bed, and strip.

“This is how it works, pet. You see that die just inside the box?” Dean nodded, licking his lips with anticipation. “Roll it for me, like a good boy,” he ordered, “then show me the number.”  Dean brought the die over to the screen and showed Cas the number nine.

“Mmmmm, perfect,” Cas rumbled. “Find the box marked nine and open it.”

Cas sat back and watched as Dean followed his instruction. Opening the box, Dean found a black leather cockring, the kind that snaps into place. 

“What should I do with it, Sir?” Dean asked, feigning innocence.

Cas snorted, not believing the act for a second. “Set it aside for the moment, princess,” he smirked. 

Dean absolutely did not whimper at the nickname. Nope. 

Chuckling lowly, Cas continued, “Roll again, princess.” 

Dean showed Cas the number seven on the die, completely hard already.

“Oh, are we going to have fun tonight! Open the box, pretty boy,” Cas ordered, hands folded in his lap.

Dean did as he was told, all the way to removing the toy from the packaging. He held it up in front of himself, turning this way and that, trying to figure it out. “What is this, Cas?” he asked, staring at the stainless steel toy.

“That, princess, is called an  [ Njoy Pure Wand ](http://www.njoytoys.com/products/purewand.php) . It can be used as a prostate massager. Now put on the cock ring, Dean, and lay on the bed, knees bent, ass as close to the edge as you can. That’s it, good boy. So good for me, Dean,” Cas crooned. 

Dean flushed at the praise while he positioned himself on the bed. At Cas’ instruction, he grabbed the lube he’d tossed on the bed earlier and started opening himself up, nice and slowly. When Dean looked up at the screen again, Cas was naked and palming himself. Smug satisfaction came over Dean. Cas was such a good Dom because he had incredible self-control. But Dean loved it when he couldn’t control it and just had to touch himself. He moaned at the sight, pleased at the slack-jawed expression on his Dom’s face.

At two fingers, Castiel told dean to stop, lube up the smaller end of the toy, and insert it just past the bulb. “Hold it there.” 

As Dean got used to the toy, he could feel the steel warming with the heat of his body, and his rim slowly relaxing to accommodate the size of it.

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Dean was beautiful like this, Castiel thought as he palmed himself roughly. He tried to maintain some semblance of control, but it was slipping rapidly as Dean moved the bulb of the toy in and out of his sweet ass. As Castiel had ordered, Dean was using shallow strokes, ensuring he massaged his prostate with every stroke. Oh, the noises his boy was making! Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself. He was doing this for Dean, not himself. Dean needed some stress relief, he needed to relax. Tomorrow was going to be a stressful day, so Castiel was doing what he could from 550 miles away. 

“Tilt the toy, Dean, tilt it away from you,” Castiel said, knowing this would angle the bulb snug against his prostate. “Good, Dean, just like that,” he cooed, stroking himself lightly. “Now, slow, even strokes, as far as you can get the toy in. Not that far out, keep most of the toy in, thaaaat’s it” he crooned softly to his lover. He watched Dean for several minutes, speaking encouragements and praise, enjoying the hitch in Dean’s breathing with every word from Castiel. He instructed Dean to move to shallow strokes, effectively massaging his prostate. 

“Oh, fuck, Cas! Feels so good, ‘m getting close, shit,” Dean grunted out. 

The state of Dean, naked and sprawled out, sweating and panting, made Castiel stroke himself faster. He had wanted to drag this out, but seeing Dean like that broke his resolve.

“Longer strokes again, Dean, faster, yes, just like that, fuck yourself with that toy, fuck your hole, Dean,” Castiel rumbled, furiously stripping his cock but wanting Dean to come first.

“Fuck, Cas, gonna come, gotta come, please! Please, can I come?!” Dean begged breathlessly.

Castiel relented and told Dean, “You’ve been so good for me, princess, take off the cock ring.” He watched avidly as Dean fumbled for the snap on the cockring, following it up with, “Take your reward. Come for me, Dean.” 

Dean was magnificent when he let himself go. Arching his back off the bed, digging his heels in, and screaming Castiel’s name as ribbons of white decorated his belly. It was too much and not enough. Castiel kept his eyes on Dean as long as he could before succumbing to the heat himself. 

Gathering hold of himself quickly—he could bask in the afterglow another day, this was for Dean—he murmured praise and adoration at what a good boy Dean was. Once Dean seemed more aware of the world, Castiel talked him through cleanup, drinking some juice, and eating a granola bar heavily laden with chocolate chips. He had Dean tuck himself into bed cuddling a pillow covered in one of Castiel’s own t-shirts, and turn off the light.

He waited patiently as his lover drifted to sleep, keeping silent watch for an hour before turning in himself.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The morning of the flight, Dean carefully tied himself, steeling himself for the nerve wracking day to come. Dean drove himself, Bobby, Ellen, and Jo to the airport, needing the rumble of Baby’s engine to soothe him. He was a little nervous going through security, worried the rope would show up and he’d be outed in front of everyone as a freak who liked to be tied up. Thankfully, the TSA officers barely gave him a second glance. 

“Dean, did you take your pill?” Jo asked quietly as they sat down, waiting for their plane to arrive. 

Dean saw nothing but love and concern on her face, so his flippant remark died on his lips. “Yeah, Jo. Just before we went through security. Thanks,” he said with a sigh. 

He knew he was a burden to the people around him, but couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment. When Jo grabbed his hand and held on tight during take off, he didn’t brush her off. She didn’t say anything to him until after the seatbelt sign went off, for which he was eternally grateful. He hated feeling so weak, but he couldn’t help it. 

About the time they leveled off, his Xanax kicked in. It didn’t knock him out completely, but it sure made him not give a shit about...well, anything. Jo kept making fun of him for how loopy he was. He had a feeling he’d regret sitting next to her later. 

Sammy met them at the airport. Dean had never felt so relieved to see his brother’s mop of hair floating above the crowd. It had been more than seven months since he’d seen his brother, since the moose had spent Christmas vacation in Seattle with Jess and her family.

Sam seemed happy to see them all, giving big hugs all around, but Dean could see the weariness in his face. He must not be sleeping well. They rented an SUV, because Sam’s piece of shit Mazda couldn’t hold them all. Hell, it could barely contain Sam. Reluctantly, and feeling like he was cheating on Baby, Dean rode shotgun with Sam on the forty minute drive to Palo Alto. The brothers needed some alone time, and that was okay with everyone else. 

“How ya doin’, Sammy?” Dean asked, wanting to head any discussions of himself off at the pass.

That didn’t mean that Sam wouldn’t bring feelings into the conversation, though. Sam always wanted to talk  _ feelings _ . Except for his own at the moment, apparently.

“Good. Better than I thought I’d be,” he replied calmly, paying too much attention to the road and pointedly not looking at his brother. “I have my stuff all packed up, except what I need in the next week or so, and it’s all going to be picked up on Wednesday and shipped back to Lawrence.” He was tapping his thumb on the steering wheel in a seemingly random rhythm, but Dean could tell that his brother was holding too much in. Sammy didn’t have nervous tics. “I even found another apartment, this time a single,” the moose forged on. “It’s just a studio, but I can afford it and it’s real close to the law school buildings. I’ll be saving money on gas because it’s walking distance. I’m gonna work a shift or two a week at the law library, too,” he finished in a rush.

“Woah, take a breath, man! You sure got a lot figured out real quick there. Not that it’s a bad thing, I’m just sayin’.” 

Dean was a little worried about his brother. Sam was never one to delay important tasks, but if he got all that accomplished while studying for his finals, there must not have been much time for anything else. Sam had never been the let loose and party like an animal kind of guy, not like Dean at least. But he should have at least celebrated surviving four years of college and getting accepted into one of the best law schools in the country. Hell, Dean tied one on back at The Roadhouse with Charlie, Ash, and Jo because he was so proud of his baby brother. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Dean. It’s not like I had a whole hell of a lot to do, anyway. It’s not like I had a burgeoning social life or anything. Along with losing my girlfriend, the girl I thought was  _ the one _ , I lost my best friend, too,” Sam said morosely. 

“Whoa, what do you mean, you lost your best friend, too?” This was the first Dean was hearing this little detail.

Sam’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, to the point Dean thought the piece of crap would actually shatter. “I found out who the other guy is. Turns out, she’s been fucking Brady. For months, now. They were both lying to me, straight to my face. Tyson would beg off study group and Jess would come home later and later. I should have caught on sooner. Brady got accepted to the law school at UW in Seattle, which is where Jess is from. Finally put two and two together, though, when I saw them in the Commons the week before finals. Canoodling like they were the only two people on the planet. I haven’t spoken to Brady since.”

“Dude, canoodling?” Dean parroted. “ Seriously, who says that anymore?” 

That earned him a small smirk from Sam. It wasn’t much, but he’d take the small victories as well as the big ones. “Really, though, that blows. Fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em all. She wasn’t good enough for you, anyway.” Dean could feel his brother’s pain as if it were his own. At one time, it had been his own. 

“Dean, you always said she was way out of my league,” Sam pointed out dryly. And, yep. That was bitchface number nine. A mild one, really.

“Well, yeah, in the looks department. But you need someone who can keep up with that ginormous brain of yours. Obviously she’s Mensa quality if she’s shacking up with Tyson Brady. Now, him I never liked. Thought he was a douchecanoe trust fund baby from the get go. They deserve each other.” 

God, Dean just hoped that he ran into Brady in a dark alley somewhere.

“I know what you’re trying to do Dean,” he sighed. “I’m fine, really. Okay, maybe that’s a lie. But I will be fine,” he said, looking over at his brother. “Being home for the summer will help a lot. Speaking of, how are you doing?"

Dean looked out the window, watching the scenery pass by while trying to choose the right words. He was saved by the driveway. As Sam pulled into the driveway of the small rental house that was home for the next few days, Dean said, “Hey, lookie there! No more time for girl talk,” and he popped out of the car before Sam could argue.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Sam’s graduation day was one of the proudest moments of Dean’s life. Watching his baby brother wear the cap and gown, walk down the aisle in the huge stadium with the rest of the undergrads from the pre-law program, and hearing Sam’s name spoken out for all to hear would forever be ingrained in his memory. 

While the four of them were waiting outside the stadium for Sam, Ellen and Jo were excitedly talking about how proud they were of Sam and how big of a ceremony it was, and all that shit. Dean let his mind wander, mostly just taking in the scenery around them. Coastal California really was a beautiful place. Not what he was used to, but still. Sometimes different was good. 

As his eyes skimmed over the surroundings, they fell on a beat up old Chevy pickup truck parked down the street. From where he stood he could see there was no one in the cab, but there was something about the truck that didn’t sit right. It couldn’t be right, but he would swear that he’d seen the same beat to shit truck back home. Speaking (or thinking) of POS cars, Dean needed to talk to Sam about his plans for the micromobile. Hopefully, Dean could get Sammy to sell it, then set him up with a loaner from Bobby’s salvage yard that he could fix up for cheap.

At that moment Sam found their little family group and liberally spread hugs all around. Even Bobby got one, despite all his grumbling. Dean quickly forgot about the truck and turned back to his family. 

No one noticed the figure in the shadows across the street watching them, nor did they see the figure down the block watching the watcher.

After rounds of pictures with the new graduate, the family headed out to dinner to celebrate. Dean grumbled that the burgers weren’t as good as Ellen’s, which got an approving smile from the woman, even while he demolished the one in front of him. So what, he had a big appetite. The pie was good. Not Ellen good, but still good.

The makeshift family drank and had fun passing stories back and forth, mostly the three youngest of the bunch trying to outdo each other for most embarassing story. Embarrassing each other, not themselves. Dean almost won with the story of walking in and finding teenage Sam jacking off to a picture of Hannah Montana, until Jo rolled out video on her cell phone of Dean on the flight to California. Xanax really made him say stupid shit. Thank God no one knew of his exploits with Ash. He’d never live those down. 

Bobby, Ellen, and Jo headed back to their hotel and Dean went home with Sam. Sam had not had much to drink, being the driver. Dean was only mildly buzzed and the night was relatively young, so the brothers both grabbed a beer and sat out on the porch to relax in the warm summer evening. After a quick goodnight call to Cas, of course. Dean had his back turned, so he didn’t see Sam’s soft smile as he took in the pure happiness in his brother’s voice. 

“I’m sorry that crap happened, but I can’t say I’m sorry to have you home for the summer,” Dean opened with, once they were settled.

“Yeah, I get that. I feel the same way. I’m glad to be going home. I need the change, and I need to be around family.” Sam sighed and drank his beer. 

A comfortable silence settled between them. They knew each other inside out, and instinctively knew when conversation was too much. For the most part.

“So,” Sam started with a slight smirk, “you and Cas. How’s that going?”

“What do ya mean, how’s it going? He’s my boyfriend, he lives eight hours drive time away, and if I didn’t have an unlimited plan my cell phone bill would be through the roof.” Dean knew he sounded a little defensive, but he couldn’t help it. He was starting to get used to sharing his feelings with Castiel, because that was part of their agreement. Sam was his brother, on the other hand. His younger brother, whom he practically raised. He’s always tried to put his best face on for Sam… Okay, maybe not his  _ best _ face, but certainly the face of a strong, capable person. He hated showing any sort of weakness in front of him. 

It was one of the things he liked so much about his relationship with Cas. His Dom saw through that and repeatedly dredged up all his insecurities and fears, only to squash them, replacing them with feelings of being cared for and wanted.

“I mean,” Sam replied, “that you two seem to be getting pretty close. First, he’s a he. You haven’t been with a guy in two years. Second, you actually called him your boyfriend. Which means relationship. A relationship for Mr. Dean I Don’t Do Relationships Winchester. Sounds pretty close to me,” he finished, taking a sip of his beer. 

Dean first reaction was to scoff and deflect, grumbling about chick flick moments. But he didn’t. Several years of therapy and over a month with Cas had finally succeeded in driving home the point that maybe, just maybe, he should let someone in every now and then. After all, if he hadn’t opened up at all, he wouldn’t have Cas. 

“Yeah, well,” he started quietly, looking down at his beer bottle, “Cas is… Cas is special. I don’t know what it is, but we’re just drawn to each other. I feel safe with him, Sammy. That just doesn’t happen. Not anymore. And that freaks me the fuck out, man. I mean, usually by now I’d be staying on high alert and trying to figure out all the ways it could go wrong. And, at first, I kept going over and over how I’d fuck it up. It just feels too good to be true, you know? But the more I get to know him, the more I find out that every relationship and hookup I had before I met him were nothing. They were shallow, unhealthy, and hell, some were even dangerous. Alastair aside. I never,” he paused, trying to decide if this was too much information. “I never really knew what a good Dom looked like, or what it actually meant to be a sub,” he finished quietly.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, genuinely curious.

God, kill him now. He’s actually talking about his sex life with his brother. It was the least he could do, though. Sam had never judged him harshly when it came out that he was into submission, and he never asked for the gory details. Not that Dean hadn’t used the occasional tidbit to embarrass the fuck out of his brother. He was the oldest, after all. 

“Well,” deep breath, “I thought—I was taught that Doms used subs. A sub’s job is to do whatever the Dom tells them. I always thought I’d get in trouble for using a safe word and that what I wanted didn’t matter. Most of the time I was never asked about limits, and the few that did didn’t really listen. It wasn’t safe. But I didn’t know any different. Plus, it fit into the whole thing of me deserving it.” He still wouldn’t look at Sammy, shame resurfacing after years of trying to put it behind him 

“Dean,” Sam started with an edge to his voice, “how many times do I have to tell you that Dad leaving was NOT your fault?! Dad was a selfish dick with a vendetta and an alcohol problem. From where I stand, our lives really began the day he blew town.” 

This was an old argument between the brothers, a sore subject. No matter how much therapy he got, Dean would always believe that it was his fault their dad left. He wouldn’t be able to convince Sammy, because that would mean telling him  _ why _ Dad left. That wasn’t gonna happen, so...yeah.

“Whatever, Sammy. Conversation’s too deep and I’m not nearly drunk enough. I’m also too tired to get up and get another beer. So, unless you plan on installing a mini fridge out here in the next ten minutes, can we please move on?” He didn’t want to argue with Sam, and he desperately wanted a subject change. 

“Yeah, Dean, sure,” Sam sighed. “I’m happy for you, though. Not only that you found someone who takes safety seriously, but that he makes you happy. And don’t try and hide it. You’re ridiculously happy. I heard it in your voice when you were talking to him earlier. Not to mention the permanent ear to ear grin whenever you talk about him,” he finished with smug grin.

“Shuddup, bitch, I do not,” Dean retorted, but without much heat. He knew Sam was right. God help him, he was ridiculously happy. 

Dean did his best to ignore the voice in his head that said it wouldn’t last, that nothing good ever lasted for Dean. That the happier he was, the harder the fall. 

The brothers spent the remainder of the evening either in silence or talking about nothing in particular. Dean was feeling a bit raw and tried to keep conversation as superficial as possible.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The following day, Sunday, Bobby, Ellen and Jo went back to Kansas. Sam had not been able to get a seat on their flight after all, so Dean delayed his flight by a day, not wanting Sam to travel by himself. 

Dean and Sam took care of a couple of last minute things around the house, then went and saw a movie. Neither brother had just taken a few hours in the middle of the day to do nothing in particular in such a long time. It felt good to just hang out together. 

After the movie, they went to a used car lot in San Jose to sell Sam’s junker. The two grand would be his living expenses for the summer.

Monday morning, they handed in Sam’s keys to the landlady after making sure she’d let the moving company in, took Bobby’s rental back to the airport and left town. Dean was glad to be sitting next to his brother on the flight. No one he’d rather die a fiery death with.


	15. Chapter 14 My Boyfriend's Back

It didn’t take Dean and Sam very long to settle into being brothers slash roommates again. They’d lived in each other’s pockets for so long that they just never really thought about it. Dean did have to relearn to be careful when Sam was home. He couldn’t wander around naked anymore and had to make damned sure his bedroom door was locked whenever he had his Skype calls with Cas. One interruption had been enough for all parties involved. Sam would be forever scarred from the image of his brother with his ass in the air, fucking himself with a purple vibrator and Cas’ deep voice encouraging him. 

Dean would never not find the look on Sammy’s face that night absolutely fucking hilarious.

Ellen couldn’t afford to hire Sam on full time, so he got a job at the university library on the KU campus. He helped out at Ellen’s a bit here and there for free food and drinks. It was a win-win for everyone, because paperwork made Ellen twitch.

Sam insisted on paying Dean rent, despite Dean’s objections, so Dean reluctantly agreed to $100 per month. If he put it into Sam’s college fund for law school, no one needed to know. Sammy’s undergrad may have been paid for, but law school definitely would not be. 

The brothers enjoyed spending time together again, especially since Sam would be extremely busy once law school started. Then he would find work after, probably not in Lawrence. Dean didn’t want to think about it, but he was silently preparing himself for that eventuality. They had been so close growing up that Dean couldn’t even imagine his life without being able to just call his brother up and go have a beer. He’d been able to make it through Sam going to college by telling himself the lie that it would be temporary. Now, he just comforted himself with the knowledge that he was very proud of the man that Sam had become, that he’d pulled himself up from nothing and was making something of himself. Dean liked to think that he’d played some small part in that. 

As much as he was enjoying his time with Sammy, he missed Castiel. Cas was working very hard on his gallery opening, so visiting regularly couldn’t really happen. With Cas’ first visit back to Lawrence scheduled for an agonizing two weeks away, Dean was relying more and more on their phone and Skype calls. He was psyched that Cas had time to Skype him that night and made an extra effort to prepare. 

Dean made sure to eat well and hydrate, and get a good night’s sleep the night before. He went straight home from work and showered, cleaning himself as thoroughly as he would if Cas was physically there. He cleaned his room and set out the incense he liked. He’d tried candles before, but after scenes he tended to be sleepy and the first time he fell asleep with lit candles was the last time. 

Castiel had informed him that the night’s activities would include the big black surprise box they’d already broken into once. Dean set that out on the bed, unopened. The aftercare kit was the last thing he brought out, setting his favorite items from it on the nightstand, within reach. His hands shook the whole time, anticipation and excitement warring with his attempts to keep calm. He wished he could think of something that would quell the kaleidoscope of butterflies threatening to burst through his stomach, but didn’t even know where to start. 

Dinner with Sam helped some. The sheer routine of cooking and eating dinner, talking about their days, and cleaning up after. Sam was going to a movie with Jo and Charlie, so he left soon after. Dean anxiously awaited the Skype call in his room.

About forty-five minutes later, the tell-tale Skype ring blared through the quiet room. Dean nearly pulled something leaping to answer it. 

“Dean,” Cas said, relief in his voice. “I’ve missed you.”

“Heya, Cas,” Dean replied, smiling so big it almost hurt. “I’m great, now that I get to talk to you.” He chuckled at Cas’  _ awww _ in response. “How’s the editing coming?”

“It’s actually going very well. I’ve edited and cropped all the photos I’ve chosen to include in the exhibit, and I’ve sent them to be printed. They’re going to be on canvas, and I don’t have the right printer for that. The university is kindly letting me use theirs. I only have one more shoot, the one with you next week. Are you still up for that?” Cas asked, showing worry that Dean might have changed his mind.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. Just so you know, I asked Sammy to be there, for two reasons,” he started reluctantly. He was worried that Cas would be insulted or, worse, angry. “The first is safety,” he continued, swallowing thickly. No going back now. “Right now, there’s no one in the world I trust more than Sam. That’s just the way it is. And as safe as I feel with you, I’d be an idiot to let myself be tied up and completely helpless without some sort of backup. I learned that the hard way. It’s nothing against you, but I have to have Sam there.”

“I completely understand, Dean, and I accept that. What is the second reason?” Castiel asked gently.

“We’ve never scened together in person, and I’ve never been tied up to that extent. Well, not willingly, at least,” he amended, just barely above audible. “And that’s the issue. If I have a bad reaction, he knows how to handle it, how to calm me down.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, trying to chose his words. He wanted to get his point across, but he was reluctant to share too many details. He didn’t want to put Cas off, but he also just really didn’t share that stuff with anyone. Not even Sam knew everything. 

“That’s a good point, Dean,” Cas started. “It makes perfect sense. I can see that aspects of this are still challenging for you. I appreciate your honesty and your initiative to protect yourself,” he smiled warmly.

Then Cas’ voice took on a playful tone, and his brow arched a little bit. Dean’s mouth went dry, anticipation starting to swirl in his chest.

“I think that deserves a reward, don’t you?” he teased. “I think it’s time to bring out the box again. Go get the dice, Dean.” His voice brooked no argument. Not that Dean would disobey anyway.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed after retrieving the die, awaiting instructions. At Cas’ prompt, Dean rolled twice. The numbers two and three popped up. Dean lifted both small boxes and turned them over, mulling the shapes and heft. He slowly unwrapped them one at a time, doing his best to reign in his impulse to rip into them. 

The first item, labeled number two, was a custom suction-cup dildo, flesh-colored and mildly imposing in size. Dean ran his fingers along the length, feeling the ridges and veins of the lifelike toy. Looking up at his laptop, he crooked a smile at Cas.

“That is a mold of my cock, Dean. Every time you use it, I will be the one fucking you. It will be my dick filling you up, sending you over the edge.” Dean groaned, pressing his palm down on his erection. “Open the other box, pet,” he prodded.

Dean complied after gently setting the Cas dildo aside. The second box contained a deep blue suede flogger. He gasped, running his fingers through the tails, enjoying the feel of the leather. He had enough rational thought to be grateful to Castiel for introducing pain play long distance. Even though Cas was the Dom and would be giving the orders, the instrument would be in Dean’s hand. Cas was easing Dean back into the scene. Dean choked up a bit, affection for his Dom welling up.

“You seem...moved. Tell me what’s on your mind, kitten,” Cas prodded, gently. Cas was sitting on his own bed in Chicago, dressed comfortably.

“It’s just,” Dean stumbled, “it’s just that you’re so patient, so...kind. I don’t...I don’t deserve it,” he mumbled, ducking his head and looking at the floor.

“That’s enough of that, Dean!” Cas bellowed, sitting up straight. Dean startled at the tone, simultaneously taken aback and highly aroused. This was the first time he’d heard Cas’ full Dom voice, and he liked it. Oh yes, he liked it very much.

“Stand up. Strip,” Castiel ordered, brooking no argument. Dean followed each direction as they were given immediately. “I will tolerate no one speaking ill of what is mine, and you are mine, aren’t you, Dean?” Cas didn’t wait for an answer, and Dean didn’t offer. He got the impression this was a shut up and do as I say moment. “I will not tolerate it from anyone, Dean, and that includes you. You will have to be punished,” he continued harshly. “Get the lube and get on your hands and knees, ass in the air and facing me.

Dean hesitated just a little, getting lost in Cas’ voice. 

“Now, Dean. I do not like repeating myself.” 

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Castiel squeezed the base of his cock through his sleep pants and groaned internally at the thought of punishing Dean. He really didn’t like that Dean talked about himself like that, but he had to admit, the prospect of delivering Dean’s first punishment both elated him and relieved him. They are actually encountering a good amount of firsts long distance. It made him feel more easy about doing a scene in person. 

He brought himself back to the moment and practically drooled at the sight of Dean’s pink hole displayed for his pleasure.

“Very good, Dean. Now, use your fingers and open yourself up. Start with one finger.” Castiel’s breath came faster as Dean circled, then breached his hole with the first finger. Identical groans could be heard as Dean fucked himself with his finger. Castiel had to remind himself that this was a punishment, however light it was going to be. Before Dean could get used to the first one, Castiel ordered him to add a second. Biting his lip against the image, he removed his shirt. Dean couldn’t see him anyway, so he might as well get himself ready. 

Somewhere between the third and fourth fingers, Dean had started rocking back and forth onto his fingers. Castiel considered admonishing him for it but felt that it would be more delicious to allow him to enjoy it for a bit, only to take it away, denying him that pleasure. That would certainly be worth it.

Castiel gave himself a few firm strokes through his pants before telling Dean firmly to stop. “That was very good, pet. Now, turn around and kneel.” Castiel hummed his approval. “Take up the flogger. I would like you to tell me how many strikes you think your behavior deserves.” He saw the conflict on Dean’s face and could just bet he knew what was going through his mind. Dean’s self-deprecating nature dictated he choose a high number, one he felt he deserved. He wouldn’t though, because Castiel would override him and possibly be upset with him.  Dean would know he shouldn’t choose too small a number, otherwise it wouldn’t be a punishment. Too high, too low, what’s the right number?

“Twenty, S-Sir, twenty,” Dean intoned, almost question-like. Unsure of the right answer.

“Hmmm,” Castiel delayed, pretending to mull it over. “I think that’s a good number,” he said, “to start with.” Dean’s look of confusion laced with excitement was amusing, causing Castiel to smirk.

“Place one hand on the bed and use the other to flog your back. I will not require you to count out loud, but I will be keeping track. Begin.”

Castiel sat back, one hand holding himself up while the other snaked underneath his waistband, silently counting. As Dean reached ten hits, he called out, “Harder, Dean, I want to see marks by the time we’re through here,” he finished lecherously.

Once Dean had finished the last ten, harder than the first, he rubbed his cock pointedly making sure Dean was watching. His sub licked his bottom lip, pink tongue caressing the flesh slowly, enticingly. On purpose. Cheeky. Couldn’t have that.

“Now that we’ve warmed you up, we can really begin. Scoot back on the bed toward the pillows, and take the dildo and flogger with you. Very nice,” he purred. “Lick the suction cup, get it nice and wet.” Dean followed instructions, lasciviously slathering the suction cup with saliva, and giving the head of the fake cock a nasty lick as well. “Mmm, bringing out the sass tonight. We’ll fix that right up. Slide the dildo into your ass, Dean, use plenty of lube. Wouldn’t want to hurt that pretty hole, would we? Good. Back up to the wall and stick yourself to it.” Castiel swallowed hard, anticipation building. He was glad he had the foresight to wear a cockring. Dean impaling himself on the facsimile of his own dick was almost too much.

“Good boy.  Now hold still while I go through the rules.” Castiel leaned back on the bed, amusement crossing his face for the briefest moment as he watched Dean use all of his self control to remain still.  “Yes, just like that, kitten. Hands on your knees for me, palms up.” Dean was so receptive, and that knowledge lit up Castiel’s skin with desire. This strong beautiful man was submitting fully to him, such a gift, it made him heady just thinking of it. 

“Rule number one, you do not come until I say so.” Cas paused, waiting. “What do you say, Dean?” He let out just a fraction of a growl with his question.

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” Dean’s eyes cast down with his mumbled answer.

“I’ll have none of that, Dean. This leads me to rule number two. I expect to be answered when I address you, and you will look at me with those beautiful eyes of yours when you do. Do you understand?”

Dean’s cheeks reddened at the compliment, but he lifted his chin and answered, his eyelashes fluttering when he made contact with Castiel.

“Rule number three, when you are about to come, you are to pull of my cock, place your hands on your knees and wait for my instructions.” Cas didn’t wait for a reply but barreled into the next statement.

“Rule number four. You do not come before me. Do you agree to these rules?” 

“Yes, Sir.” The reply came swiftly and sure.

“Good, then let’s begin.”

Castiel started Dean off slowly, making him move at an achingly slow pace. He made sure the drag of his cock could be felt until the tip almost slipped out, before he made Dean slide himself back down. He let Dean’s hands explore his chest, circle his nipples and slip down his flanks. He was permitted a touch to his thighs, using his nails to leave gooseflesh in their wake. He led Dean’s hands down the junction of his thigh and abdomen with a barely there touch that ghosted over his light pubic hair. All of these directions were coupled with reassurance that Dean’s hands were now Castiel’s; that every sensation was being given to him by his Dom, and that Dean was worthy of it all.

A beautiful sheen of sweat started to dust Dean’s skin, the delicate pace pushing Dean’s head back, exposing his throat. Castiel was mesmerised by the bob of his Adam’s apple, accompanied by the breathy moans that escaped his mouth, and Castiel was riding the edge just as much as Dean.  

He had yet to allow Dean a single touch of his cock, only teasing him with a tug of his balls and rhythmic pressure to his perineum. It was while he was twisting Dean’s nipple that the their rhythm was abruptly halted as Dean pulled off Cas’ cock. Dean’s head shot up, his hands slapping hard to his knees, and a look of battling emotion showed on his face.

“Sweet Princess, are you close?” Castiel purred, teasing his boy as he watched him struggle to still.

“Yes, Sir.”  

“I’m so proud of you, Dean. Now I want you to do something for me, pick up the flogger.” He waited as he watched the words work their way into some order in Dean’s mind, and his shaky hand grasped the handle. “Such a good boy. Two strikes please, one to each side and then tell me something good about yourself.” Dean’s face was instantly stricken. He raised his arm to administer the hits, but hesitated.  “You’ll do well to obey me, Dean or two will become four.” This command pushed the sub into action, the hits cracking in the silence.

“Sir, I… I’m a good brother.” Dean scrambled for an answer.

“Thank you, princess,” Castiel felt the pride swell in his chest, his beautiful sub was learning. It was by no means a fixed issue, but Dean was willing to try, and with that Cas was sure he would heal. 

“You may take my cock in you again, boy. I want you to ride me hard and fast, on all fours, can you do that for me, kitten?” 

Dean let out a deep guttural moan followed by a “Yes, Sir,” several octaves lower than usual. He then lined himself up with Cas’ cock and drove it deep inside himself hard and fast. Cas’ hand moved in time with Dean, grasping himself in an iron grip, his body rigid and barely breathing as he sat hypnotised by Dean’s lithe movements. The only noises to fill his room were Dean’s hitched breaths and his hard red cock slapping against his stomach from the force of his movements, interspersed by Castiel’s purred out commands and compliments.

When Dean pulled off next and sat up to stare into the computer at Castiel, he could tell that Dean was on the very edge. Every muscle was tight and motionless, as if the barest touch or movement would send him spilling over. Dean’s self control was impeccable and Cas almost came right then and there, the power and strength before him was so beautiful.

“Princess, so good for me,” Cas whispered. His brain was trying to go offline and he was doing everything he could to stay in control. Pulling himself together he mentally checked the situation, as tense as Dean was, he was safe and in no immediate harm.

“Have you ever come untouched?” Castiel asked, before the question had even registered in his own mind.

“Sir?” Dean seemed unsure how to answer.

“This isn’t a trick, Princess, you may answer honestly. Remember, all I want is honesty.”

“Ahh... No, Sir, I, ah, never.” Dean looked down ashamed.

“Princess, look at me please,” Castiel’s tone was kind yet firm. Dean cast his eyes to Cas, “Tell me, please, how would you touch me?”

Dean scrunched his face in confusion, and Cas didn’t blame him, this scene was not going where he had expected it to, but in this moment he needed to know. “Please, Princess, would you tell me?”

“Sir, I… um, I would kiss you first, just the side of your mouth, soft, for the briefest moment, just to get a taste.” Castiel ran his thumb over his mouth, his eyes fixed on Dean’s. “Sir, my hands have not earned the right to touch you yet, my lips… they speak for me now. I would run them over your jaw, enjoying the roughness of your stubble. My nose would push that damn curl away from your ear as I took your earlobe into my mouth,” Castiel hissed as he pinched his earlobe between his fingers. His other hand was steadily working his cock, precome gliding the way. 

“Perfect, Dean, so perfect for me.  

“I would lose myself in the crook of your neck, nibble my way along your collarbone. My tongue would trail down your chest to your nipples and I’d suck marks into both of them.” Castiel moaned, his nipples were one of his biggest erogenous zones. He stopped stroking himself long enough to pinch both nipples roughly, before taking himself in hand again. “I’d burrow my nose into your happy trail and if Sir would allow me the honour, I would take your hot, hard, leaking cock into my mouth and let you fuck my face, I wou…” 

Castiel’s long deep groan halted Dean’s words. Cas let his orgasm rip through him, spraying his seed in a fountain before him and onto the carpet.  He kept his eyes on Dean the entire time, watching the awe and desire take over his boys face, and knew the moment his sub was about to come undone. “You may come, princess,” was all he had to say, before Dean was falling backwards on the bed, his cock letting stream after stream of come splash up his torso. “That’s it, my sweet boy. You look so beautiful when you come. Such a good boy,” he said quietly, gentling Dean through his orgasm.

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Dean lay on his back, panting, come cooling on his chest. As his heart slowed closer to normal, he heard his Dom talking to him. Turning his head toward his laptop and trying to focus on Castiel’s gorgeous blue eyes.

“Ah, there you are, kitten. Are you back with me?” Cas asked gently, soothingly. Dean saw that he’d cleaned up and redressed, and was watching him intently. There was also gentleness and affection in his eyes that made a different sort of heat course through Dean’s body.

Dean nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, ‘m here.” He rolled over, grimacing as the sticky mess on his chest got squished between his body the bedspread. That was going to be fun to clean up tomorrow. 

“Wonderful. You did so well, Dean, I’m very proud of you,” Cas said in awe. “Can you do something for me?” he asked.

“Um, sure,” Dean murmured, fatigue starting to set in. He felt a heaviness in his muscles, a weight surrounding him, filling him with contentment.

“I know it’s hard, Dean, but you need to get up. I want you to use the baby wipes from the kit and clean your chest.”

Dean sluggishly followed instructions and cleaned himself up. He drank some of the Gatorade and half a protein bar from the kit as well, before Cas tucked him in for the night. His last thought before he slipped into sleep was that he was falling fast for Cas, and it was a wonderful feeling.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Castiel spent most of his time editing and printing his pieces for the gallery opening. The gallery owner had requested twenty-five shots, of which she would display twenty. If the opening went well, she would bring the out as the first ones sold.

His photography may have occupied most of his time, but he went to great lengths to ensure he made time for Dean. Some days it was only a few minutes on the phone before bed. Other nights they could spend hours on Skype. Those were very special times and had Castiel on cloud nine for days after. 

The Dom in him had been worried about the kinds of scenes that could be arranged long distance. Their last scene, with the flogger and dildo, went exceedingly well. He was constantly amazed at Dean’s strength and will. But he worried about Dean; in particular the sub’s previous BDSM experiences. Castiel had never had a bad session on the level of what Dean went through. He’d had a sub or two go through a drop, and he’d had one drop himself; it was impossible to be in the life for so long and  _ not _ have a drop or two. It was part of learning the role and getting to know your partner. He decided to ask Cain for advice on how not to trigger Dean, so before his planned visit to Lawrence, Castiel visited The Velvet Underground.

Uriel greeted him with his usual stoic enthusiasm that evening. “Good evening, Castiel. Are you playing tonight?” he asked as he frisked Castiel.

“Hello, Uriel. No, I am not. Dean’s not in town at the moment. I just came to speak to Cain. Is he in yet?” Castiel answered, draping his coat over his arm. He wasn’t playing, so he didn’t need to use his locker.

“Yes, he hasn’t made the first rounds of the evening yet, so he’s still in his office. You can go right up. I’m sure he’d be pleased to see you.” With that, Uriel turned back to his duties at the front door.

Castiel nodded to Zeke as he passed the bar and went up the stairs. Cain’s door was open, so he knocked on the door frame. Cain looked up and smiled when he saw who his visitor was.

“Hello, Castiel, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Come, sit.”

Hello, Cain,” Castiel said with a tight smile, sitting across from Cain.

“You seem troubled, what’s on your mind?” Cain asked, concern touching his voice.

“I need advice. I trust you as a Dom and a friend. I’m having difficulty devising scenes with Dean on several levels. First, I’ve never had a sub long distance, so we have phone conversations and talk over Skype, but I’m worried because I can’t physically touch him to reassure him and I can’t give proper aftercare,” Castiel explained bluntly. 

Cain considered for a moment, steepling his fingers together at his lips, before replying. “I have to say, Castiel, I’m very honored that you would come to me with this. It is certainly a delicate situation. Did you make him an aftercare kit?” he asked evenly.

Castiel described in detail the aftercare kit, drop kit, and surprise kit that he’d sent with Dean. Cain chuckled at the surprise kit.

“I admire your ingenuity with that one. I may have to use it in the future, should I gain a long-distance sub. Your aftercare and drop kits sound more than adequate. Does he have someone locally that he can count on to ground him if the kits aren’t sufficient?” he inquired, still amused.

“His brother is currently home for the summer from college, and he has his friend Charlie. Both are safe because they have no sexual desire for Dean, and both know he is a sub. In fact, his brother was his main support after his ordeal.” Castiel paused, thinking about his dilemma. “Talking it over with you, I think that my aftercare and drop plans are at least adequate,” Cain hummed and nodded his agreement, so Castiel continued, “but I’m still concerned about the scenes themself. I don’t want to trigger him in anyway,” he said, frustrated and feeling inadequate as a Dom. 

“First,” Cain said firmly, “stop that. I know what you’re thinking, and you are not a bad Dom just because you are having trouble devising scenes. You are a very good Dom, Castiel. You are consistent, kind, and considerate of your sub’s needs. As an added bonus, you are very cognizant of etiquette and safety. It’s very refreshing to see, honestly. It makes me wish that I could have been the Dom to introduce you to the life, and been your Dominant mentor.  But,” he sighed, resignedly, “ I have to admit that Balthazar did a very good job of it.”

“Thank you, Sir, that’s very kind of you,” Castiel flushed. Cain was the only Dom Castiel addressed as Sir, and that was still a rare thing. He felt that this occasion called for it, though. He had a deep respect for the Dom, after all. 

Cain smiled at the endearment. “On to the concern of scenes. Edging, orgasm denial, and chastity cages are all good options. A bit expected, but still great for testing the waters. You can do more subtle things, like attire. For example, if he’s into wearing lingerie or bondage leather under his clothes during the day, or for your scenes. You can also give him instructions for self-care, like eating properly, doing chores around the house, making sure he takes time for himself. You can schedule a massage at a local parlor for after a scene, or arrange to have his favorite food delivered.” Cain was tapping a pen lightly on his desk as he ticked things off a mental list. “Oh!” he exclaimed after a short pause. “You’ve taught him the simple chest harness so he can do it himself, right? There are others you can teach him. Some can restrict movement, but you can also use a remote controlled plug for those occasions. Does that help?” he asked, seeming to finally run out of ideas for the moment.

Castiel sighed, grateful. “Yes, Cain, that helps a lot. Especially the self-care things. I hadn’t thought to arrange things like that. Thank you for your help, I greatly appreciate it.”

“My pleasure. Now, tell me how you’ve been!” Cain grabbed his decanter of whiskey and two tumblers, pouring a measure for each.

The two spent the next hour catching up before Castiel went home to pack for his trip.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The day that Cas returned to Kansas was nerve-wracking for Dean. Cas had decided to fly, since he didn’t have a ton of time to spare and two days driving would lessen the amount of time he could spend with Dean. Besides, he’d spend almost as much on gas as a plane ticket, and he didn’t have Dean’s aversion to flying metal tubes.

Dean was so jittery at work that Bobby let him go an hour early, grousing that Dean wasn’t being very productive anyway. Dean didn’t argue and rushed home to shower and change for the hour drive to the airport. 

Dean paid special attention to certain areas, wanting to be ready for his Dom. Once he was done, he inserted the modestly-sized stainless steel plug with a blue jewel on the end that he’d purchased the week before specifically for this purpose. He wore a pair of green lacy boyshorts underneath jeans and a Zeppelin t-shirt. He smiled all the way to the airport. 

Waiting for Cas at the arrivals zone was an exercise in patience. The airport in Kansas City is not that big, but Dean was very anxious and excited to see his boyfriend, so every minute that passed was more like an hour. The universe was just torturing him, that’s all there was too it.

The world melted away as soon as Cas came through the big glass door wearing blue jeans, a “Normal is a 4-Letter Word” t-shirt, and dark sunglasses. The hottest man Dean’s ever seen started looking around and as soon as he spotted Dean the sunshine bright smile nearly bowled Dean over as warmth bloomed in his chest. 

“Dean!” Cas yelled from across the drive through, waving vigorously like a dork. It looked as if he’d run over to Dean, if not for the two large hard-sided cases containing all his gear rolling along behind him. Five feet away Cas dropped his duffle and practically tackle-hugged Dean. The kiss that followed was downright dirty and not at all appropriate for public places. Dean loved every minute of it. 

“Hey, angel,” Dean murmured into Cas’ neck. “Missed you.” Neither man wanting to let go, they stood there for several minutes, each just breathing in the other in their little universe. 

A honking horn broke them out of their bubble. They stepped back from each other and, with one more brief kiss, got into the Impala and turned toward Lawrence. They spent the drive catching up and holding hands. 

“If you’re not too tired, I figured we could just go straight to the Roadhouse for dinner with the guys. You haven’t met Sam or Charlie yet. She’ll have me drawn and quartered if we don’t do the meet and greet thing right away.” Dean really did not want to cross Charlie. She could literally go all  _ Eraser _ on his ass.

“Yes, Dean, that’s fine. I’m not very tired, but I am hungry. I am also eager to meet your brother and your best friend,” Cas replied.

“Okay, then. Roadhouse it is, then,” Dean said. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing to get those two in the same room. 

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“What’s up, bitches?!” Charlie called as they walked up to the bar. She pulled Dean into a deep hug. She was surprisingly strong for a 90-pound soaking wet geek.

“How’s it goin’, Red?” Dean asked, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Nada, just waitin’ on you two lovebirds to come join the party. Come on, the usual suspects are at the usual spot.” She turned and walked toward the back of the bar, Cas and Dean following her in her wake. 

The evening’s festivities were a bit raucous, given the group was celebrating the publication of the  _ Sculpture Magazine _ ’s article on Dean. The article portrayed Dean in a very favorable light, though he wasn’t too thrilled at the part that mentioned his childhood and dead mother, but at least it didn’t go into great deal. It had only been a few days, but Dean was already receiving requests for custom orders. 

The group complained and cajoled when Cas and Dean got ready to leave, but they had the shoot the next day and Cas wanted to make sure Dean was well-rested. As they were leaving the Roadhouse, Dean saw a figure in the shadows, staring at them. It was too dark to see who it was, and they didn’t follow Dean and Cas, so he convinced himself it was just a homeless person and kept moving. They went back to Dean’s place and settled in for the night.

They woke up the next morning tangled in each other’s limbs. Dean felt warm and safe and didn’t want to move. He nosed at Cas’ throat, breathing in his scent, releasing a hum of contentment. Cas stirred, breathing deeply and tightening his arm around Dean’s waist.

“Mmmm, morning. How did you sleep?” Cas asked, a small smile creeping across his face.

“Great, actually,” Dean said, “much better than usual. I think I’m gonna keep you around for awhile.” 

Cas chuckled, a low rumble that sent heat through Dean. He started kissing up Cas’ throat, along his jaw, and finally his lips. It was a lazy, comfortable kiss, not meant to lead anywhere. Just kissing for the sake of the kiss. 

They broke off by mutual agreement and stretched. “We should get up,” Cas said. “We have a big day ahead.” He kissed Dean one more time and started to get up.

Dean whined, missing Cas’ warmth already, but he was right. “Yeah, I guess.” He sounded a little less than enthused, which caused Cas to turn and look at him with concern.

“Dean? Are you having second thoughts? You know, we don’t have to do this,” Cas said, stroking Dean’s cheek.

“No, no second thoughts. It’s just...Sam. I need him there, at least for the beginning, but I’m not all that eager for him to see me naked and tied up. Oh, and probably hard, too,” Dean shifted, uncomfortable.

“I understand. I’ll do what I can to minimize the amount of naked time, okay?” Cas said, reassuringly.

“Yeah, that’s good. I’m good with that,” Dean replied, relieved.

“I request that you wear underwear that you are comfortable having cut off you, then. I can tie you with them on, then cut them off when I need to take the photographs,” Cas offered.

Dean loved that idea, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the idea of Cas cutting clothes off him. None, whatsoever.

They took a relaxed shower, with Dean blowing Cas on his knees. Cas was grateful, but denied Dean his orgasm saying the wait would be worth it. After a satisfying breakfast in which Dean made Cas some awesome apple cinnamon pancakes with bacon and orange juice, they went over the ties one more time.

Sam came in and joined them for that conversation, and the rest of the bacon, so he knew how the morning was going to go. Castiel estimated about five hours for the shoot, just because of the location. Once they were ready, Sam and Cas went down into the warehouse to start setup, while Dean sat on the floor, cross-legged, and tried to meditate like Cas taught him. They were taking every precaution they could to make sure Dean enjoyed the experience. The meditation was to calm him, get him to a zen place and relieve the anxiety he had around being tied. It also served to aide getting down into subspace more easily, which would go a long way toward the enjoyment part. He was also stretching, loosening himself up, warming his muscles for the physical exertion ahead.

Cas found him once the initial riggings were up. He stood in front of Dean, holding his hand out. Dean took it, allowing Cas to help him up. Cas placed one hand on either cheek, kissing Dean gently. Dean melted into the kiss, relaxing. Cas’ hands trailed down his shoulders, caressing his chest, moving down his abdomen to the hem of his t-shirt. 

“Up, princess,” he whispered. Dean obeyed, languidly raising his arms above his head. Cas slowly drew the shirt up and over, letting it fall to the ground. His eyes never left Dean’s, save the briefest instant when the shirt interrupted their gaze. 

“Good boy,” Cas said gently. His hands trailed to Dean’s waistband, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans before slowly bringing them down, kneeling down as he did. Cas looked up at Dean through his eyelashes as he tapped first one then the other ankle, getting Dean to lift each foot, removing the jeans and setting them aside as well. As he stood back up, he let his hands move up the outside of Dean’s legs, hips, torso. His right hand moved to the nape of Dean’s neck, gripping the hair there and pulling Dean’s head back and nipping at the spot behind his earlobe. Dean moaned roughly, eyes fluttering closed.

“Shall we begin?” Cas asked, wrapping Dean in a bathrobe.

“Yes, Sir,” Dean said, from a dreamy place. Cas led the way as they moved downstairs.

Castiel brought Dean to the side of the stairwell, where he’d laid the various lengths of undyed jute rope on Dean’s workbench. Dean barely caught that Sam was sitting on a chair over by his BurnTable.

Before he could really register it, Cas was wrapping the first length of rope around Dean in the familiar tortoise shell harness. His arms were left free, for the moment. Cas led Dean halfway up the stairwell and pulled the lead rope line he’d attached through the chest harness. He hoisted Dean up so he was between the floors of the stairwell, and set to work finishing the  [ tie ](http://farm9.static.flickr.com/8363/8261841775_0053896aa2_m.jpg) . Once he was done, Cas brought out his shears and cut away the plain black boxer briefs from underneath the rope. Dean gasped at the feel of the soft fabric being roughly yanked away.

Cas checked on Dean, made sure he was doing well, and set about taking his pictures. The longer Dean stayed there, suspended between floors, the more he floated. This was the feeling he’d been searching for, the one that he’d barely grazed by in the past. Now, he was completely immersed in it, and it was wonderful. 

It really shouldn’t have been as relaxing as it was. Given his past, it should have been downright frightening. He should have been struggling; hell, he shouldn’t have let the rope within a country mile of him. But this was Cas, and he trusted Cas. 

The quiet susurrations of the rope, the rough fibers of the jute biting into his skin, the midsummer breeze blowing over his naked skin, caressing him and cooling the heat building within. 

Once Cas had put down his camera, he released Dean from the tie, slowly removing the ropes in reverse order until Dean was in Cas’ lap, whispers of praise in his ear and hands worshiping his body. Casting his gaze about, Dean didn’t see Sam. He did, however, feel Cas’ hand creep up his inner thigh and cup his balls. “You did so well, my sweet boy. You held the pose for so long. You are strong, and beautiful, and so good for me,” Cas crooned in Dean’s ear as he lazily stroked Dean’s hard cock.

“Mmmmm, fuck. Sir, that feels so good,” Dean slurred, slowly thrusting his hips into Cas’ grip.

“Do you think you’re up for another tie, sweetheart?” Cas asked, voice deep and smooth, like hundred-year-old Scotch.

When Dean nodded and hummed his assent, Cas stood up and led Dean to the middle of the warehouse floor, between two scaffolds that had been set up prior. Cas got to work again, this time  [ suspending ](http://planetabdsm.tumblr.com/post/37845202636/male-bondage) Dean upside down by his knees, with his  wrists lashed together, a hank of rope going around his neck, down his back and around his toes, lashing them together as well. 

Hanging upside down was a new experience. He was already fairly far into subspace, but the blood rushing to his head made him feel like he was swimming, getting swept away with the current. The last bit of the tie was a blindfold, heightening Dean’s senses that much more. 

He felt the breeze again, cooling the sweat he felt dripping down his body. He heard his own breath, ragged and rapid. He heard the rapid-fire click of Cas’ camera. He felt the burning touch of a single finger tracing his muscles, exploring, before traveling up the underside of his cock.

“Mmmm, you taste so good, kitten,” Cas said. Before he knew it, Cas had swallowed him down and was sucking his cock like a porn star. 

“Fucking hell! Unh, yes, shit,” Dean cried out, arching his back in pleasure. He felt his climax coming, moans becoming desperate.

♢♦♢♦♢♦

The distressed cry that rang out when Castiel pulled off Dean’s cock was music to his ears. He’d never seen something so beautiful. The power of Dean’s control, the gift of his submission, it was an awesome, heady feeling. 

Castiel had the shots he needed, so all he could think about was getting his wonderful sub upstairs and fucking him silly. His body ached for Dean, craved the taste of his skin. With that goal in mind, Castiel lovingly released Dean from his ropes, dragging each scratchy length along the sub’s skin, drawing deep moans of pleasure from him. Castiel massaged each limb as they were freed, bringing feeling back and soothing aches. Once Dean’s limbs were no longer limp noodles, he walked Dean upstairs and into his bedroom. 

Laying Dean down on the bed on his stomach, Castiel stripped down and climbed over his lover. He rubbed arnica oil into Dean’s muscles, working his way down to his ass. Grasping big handfuls, Castiel spread Dean’s cheeks and licked a long stripe over Dean’s hole, loving his writhing body. 

Slowly, so painfully slowly, he opened Dean up, all the while whispering praises and endearments into his skin. Entering Dean was like coming home. He draped himself over Dean’s back, rocking into him slowly and aiming for his prostate on every pass. Dean was a blubbering mess, fisting the sheets in ecstasy. 

As Castiel neared his orgasm, his pace quickened, drawing unintelligible, guttural cries from the man underneath him. Whispering into Dean’s ear, he commanded, “Come for me, princess, come for me.” Dean went rigid, coming into the sheets with a loud, drawn out groan. His fluttering hole brought Castiel over the edge and he yelled out Dean’s name as he spilled into him. 

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Dean had no idea how long he floated, disconnected from his body and his mind. He swam in a sea of emotions, trying to process what he was feeling through images flashing behind his eyes. Ropes. Long slender fingers, caressing his skin with the barest hint of pressure. Intense blue eyes. Plush pink lips that he wanted to kiss and bite and plunder. The feeling of the ropes against his skin, tugging and rubbing, roughly holding him immobile. 

Rational thought slowly returns, and with it some pretty heavy thoughts. The rope didn’t scare him; in fact, he felt contained, content, loved. It was Castiel wrapped around him, protecting him. There was none of the panic, the fear of not being able to get away. Sure, he was at the mercy of his Dom, but he’d grown to trust Castiel with his very safety. That in itself was a huge statement to Dean. But Castiel wasn’t imprisoning him, he was helping to shut out the world, to shut Dean’s brain off. He was able to release the constant tension that never left. And as he opened his eyes and saw the beautiful smile he loved, Dean realized it hadn’t come back upon joining the land of the conscious. 

“There you are, kitten. My beautiful boy, how are you feeling?” Cas asked while rubbing a hand lazily up and down Dean’s back.

“Mmm, ‘m good. Still floaty. It’s awesome,” he replied. Taking stock of his body, he realized that Cas had cleaned him up and tucked him in the bed. He watched as Cas leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of water and a small chocolate bar. 

“Drink. We need to rehydrate you. It was warm in the warehouse and you were sweating a fair amount.” Cas helped Dean to sit up and put the water bottle to his lips, helping him to drink until Dean was able to hold the bottle on his own. His heightened senses processed the creamy sweet taste of the chocolate on a whole new level. 

“Thank you, Cas,” he said, settling back into the pillows. 

“You’re welcome, Dean,” Cas answered nonchalantly, like the gift he’d just given Dean was nothing at all.

“No, Cas.  _ Thank you.” _ Dean looked straight at Cas, a seriousness taking over that was not generally like him. “Not just for the water and chocolate, but for making me feel protected and safe. For the first time in, well, ever, I was able to shut my brain off. I didn’t need the walls. You knocked them down. Exhibit A, the complete lack of filter and emotional verbal diarrhea that’s happening right now. By the way,” he chuckled, “enjoy it, because it’s not gonna happen all the time. Although,” he considered, grinning cheekily, “if you keep tying me up and fucking me stupid like that, it might happen more often. Fair trade.”

Cas looked very emotional, and when he spoke it was with some effort. “Dean, my precious kitten. How did I ever get so lucky? I am so blessed and honored to be able allowed to be your boyfriend and your Dom. I promise, with all of my heart, that I will do everything I can to ensure your trust.” He leaned down and kissed Dean. Dean felt the weight of Cas’ promise in the brush of his lips. He vowed to himself that he would do everything possible to be a good sub, a good boyfriend for Cas.

That last thought was the most comforting thought he’d had in years, and it was the last thing on his mind as he slipped into sleep, wrapped in Castiel’s arms.


	16. Chapter 15 Stage Fright

“Hey Dean, are you sure you want me to go? I mean, wouldn’t I just be cramping your style?” Sam asked Dean, sounding reluctant as they were both packing for the long weekend. 

“Nah, Sammy, it’ll be great! You and Cas get along really well—so well it’s scary, actually,” he said, wrinkling his brow. “You know what, stay here,” he quipped with mock seriousness. “It’s not natural for my brother to get along so well with my boyfriend...has to violate some sort of siblings code or something.” He laughed at himself and Sam just gave him a bitch face.

Dean rolled his eyes and gave in. “Okay, look. I-I would really appreciate—” he halted, steeling himself, “—I would  really appreciate you going to Chicago with me. There’s going to be a lot of people at the opening and Cas wants me there but he’ll have to schmooze and pay attention to other people and I’m nervous about being by myself with all those people,” he breathed out in one big woosh. 

“Dude, take a breath!” Sam chuckled a little as he walked over to Dean and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll go, okay? Don’t worry about it, we’ll stick together. Alright?” he asked, looking his brother in the eye. Dean looked hard but found no judgement, so he sighed and nodded. The remainder of their road trip prep was finished in a comfortable silence.

It had been one month since he’d seen Cas. The photo shoot had been a rousing success. Cas got the pictures he needed and Dean didn’t have a panic attack. Not only that, but it was the hottest sex of Dean’s life, hands down. He smile was all goofy as he loaded up the Impala for the drive.

Being on the road with Sammy was one of Dean’s absolute favorite happy places. The open road, his little brother, his baby, junk snack food and classic rock. Never would there be a better combination. 

As each mile passed in a blur of wheat fields, the tension in Dean’s body released, little by little. About halfway to Chicago he realized he didn’t have a death grip on the steering wheel anymore, and the tightness behind his eyes was gone. He wasn’t sure what he’d been so tense about, just knew that it was gone, so he decided not to question it. 

Leaving at the butt-crack of dawn and switching off allowed the boys to get to Chicago by four o’clock. Castiel warmly greeted the brothers and showed Sam the guest room. He then apologized to Sam, but he was taking Dean out for the evening. 

After a family dinner of Thai takeout, Cas quietly ordered Dean to go dress for the club. Dean could barely contain his excitement. Cas was going to tie him, in a public scene. They’d talked about it at length, so Dean knew most of what was going to happen. But this was his first public scene in...awhile. Nerves tried to worm their way in, so he fell back on the breathing techniques again, surprised at how easy it was getting the more he used them.

Sammy had settled himself on the couch with what looked like a textbook.

“Nerd,” Dean teased. “Gonna spend the whole night reading?”

Sam quirked his lip up and said, “I’m just getting a head start on the reading list for law school.”

“I say again, nerd,” Dean laughed.

“Ahem.” Dean whipped around at the noise, swallowing thickly at his Dom’s raised eyebrow. Damn that eyebrow. Did things to Dean’s knees.

“Yeah, Cas?” he asked, trying like hell for nonchalance. Not sure if he succeeded.

“Apologize to your brother, Dean,” he ordered gently. “Now.” So that was a no on the nonchalance bit. Damn. Cas was hot when he was like this!

Then he remembered the order and absolutely did  _ not _ pout as he turned around and mumbled, “Sorry Sammy,” hanging his head a little, not wanting to face his humiliation head-on.

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Dean could hear the shit-eating grin and knew he’d be hearing about it later. Dammit.

“Moving on!” Dean said loudly, clapping his hands together. “Can we go now, Cas?” That didn’t count as begging, did it? Because it wasn’t. Nope.

Cas crooked a finger, motioning for Dean to come to him. Once Dean was standing in front of him, Cas fastened a rope collar around his neck that looked just like the last one, only in a deep emerald green. Once he was finished, he kissed Dean, slow and deep, sending sparks through to his toes. 

Saying goodnight to Dean, they left for the club, hand in hand.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The club wasn’t overcrowded, owing to the exclusive members only crowd. Dean’s head was abuzz with excitement and anticipation, he felt invincible with Cas at his side and his collar around his neck. They moved swiftly through the crowd, Cas stopping here and there to greet a friend or acquaintance, but only making the briefest of pleasantries before moving on. Castiel’s hand never moved from the small of Dean’s back, for which he was grateful. 

In the suspension room, Castiel was quiet while he prepared for the demonstration. He ran the ropes through his hands as he whispered words of encouragement to Dean. They had gone over the evening's plans earlier, listing all the rope ties and movements they would use as well as any possible scenarios that might occur; so all that was to happen now was the event itself. 

Once the room started filling with club members, Castiel took Dean’s face in his hands, looking him straight in the eye. “Are you sure you’re ready, princess?” Dean could feel the gravity of the question, he knew that he could say no now, and they would go on home as if that had been the plan all along, but he  _ was _ ready; he was nervous of course, but he was ready to do this with Cas. “Yes, Sir. I’m ready.” Dean took one of Cas’ hands in his, and brought it up to his lips where he kissed each of his knuckles gently, his eyes remained trained on Castiel’s. “I trust you.”

Cas nodded and said, “Let’s begin then.”

Castiel pulled Dean into him, kissing him on the forehead, while trailing his hands down Dean’s back. Dean felt the trail of goosebumps left in their wake, as Cas’ strong hands turned him around. Dean’s back was pushed hard against Cas’ chest, and he could already feel the swell of Cas’ cock nestling into his ass.  

From behind, Cas undid Dean’s shirt, pulling the white cotton from his shoulders and letting it fall between them. His dexterous fingers found their way to Dean’s belt, where he pulled it free with a snap that went straight to Dean’s dick. The pants followed the other items to the floor, and Dean was standing there in nothing but a green collar.

When Cas lead Dean to the center of the stage, the whole room was bathed in a blue light, making the patrons seem little more than black silhouettes.  Dean kept his eyes on Cas, and let the music’s deep heady thrum of a hypnotic bassline lull him into comfort while Cas slid and pulled the ropes into place. 

When the body harness was complete, and his arms were firmly tied behind his back, two men entered the stage to support Dean’s weight while Cas fixed Dean’s calves to his thighs and lifted him into the air in full suspension.

The feeling of nakedness was gone, the ropes surrounded him in an aura of safety, an extension of Cas’ hands. Dean felt the giddy high start to take hold, his body tensing to remain steady yet relaxing into the ties. Every thought quickly emptied from his mind, leaving him hanging free in a room on his own. 

Castiel had been gently turning Dean, showing the crowd the ties, and the way Dean’s body folded and hung when Dean felt the heat of the spotlight move away from him. The room started to glow from blue to yellow, as Castiel began to spin Dean from his suspensions.

This new light meant that Dean was now able to see the crowd, they were no longer silhouettes but actual faces and people. The spins were faster now, and Dean could feel himself spiral further out of his body with each turn. With one turn Dean’s focus landed on Victor, his solid presence a grounding force along with his Dom’s voice and touch. Pam was slowly grinding in Victor’s lap, watching the show with hooded eyes.

He was floating now, disconnected from the pinch and burn of the ropes, so light and free.  

Another spin, and another and then… 

Every muscle in his body tightened, and he was flung back into consciousness.   _ That couldn’t have been him. _ Nausea swelled in his stomach, the bile quickly rising.  _ It must be the lighting, some sort of trick of the mind. _

Another spin and another…

A pair of eyes caught his own, the face of true evil was staring back at him.  He was going to die, he was going to die right here, right now.

“Poughkeepsie,” he said. It came out weak and strangled, not loud enough to alert his Dom to his distress. 

Another spin, struggling against the ropes this time.

Another spin and there were those eyes again. This time they were joined by a twisted, snarling leer, the one that haunted his every nightmare for the last two years.

“P-Poughkeepsie!”

As the word left his lips the world went black. 

♢♦♢♦♢♦

Castiel felt something off after he started spinning Dean. There had been a look of bliss on Dean’s face, but on the next pass it was contorted, confused. The pass after that it was shocked. Castiel looked into the audience, trying to see what Dean was seeing. The only thing that stood out was the concerned look on Pamela’s face. She had come off Victor’s lap and was sitting in the seat next to her Dom. 

Something was definitely off, but Dean hadn’t safeworded. He wanted to trust that Dean knew his limits, that he would call it off if he needed to. Castiel also had to weigh that with his responsibility as Dean’s Dom. He vacillated momentarily, trying to decide which way to go. 

When he looked back on this moment later, Castiel would realize that the single biggest mistake he made in the whole ordeal was not recognizing that Dean was in trouble. He would beat himself up for that mistake for a long time to come. 

The moment Dean safeworded, Castiel leapt into action. He turned Dean toward him and got right in his face, holding it with both hands. 

“Dean. Dean, listen to me,” he started, immediately slipping into protector mode. Dean’s eye’s darted around, wide and glassy. Castiel knew in the pit of his stomach that Dean was headed toward one doozy of a panic attack.

At the outskirts of his awareness, Castiel heard Victor shout for the room to be cleared. Castiel noted that Pamela stayed in the room guarding the door, while Victor left. 

Focusing his attention fully on Dean, he placed his forehead against Dean’s, trying to ground him. “Cas,” Dean got out, strangled and weak. With Dean responding, albeit still in a panicked version of subspace, Castiel got to work on the ropes, lowering Dean to the floor before using his shears to release his beautiful, hurting sub. Once he hit the floor, Dean started to babble.

“No no no no no, can’t be him. He wasn’t supposed to be able to get in here, it was supposed to be safe. ’M not safe, have to get away.” Dean scrambled, trying to back away, not really recognizing Castiel as a safe place. His heart sank knowing that Dean was in the midst of a nightmare.

Cain came in then, and stopped about ten feet from the pair, so as not to freak Dean out even more. “What happened,” he asked with an even voice that belied his concern. 

“Dean safeworded and he’s having a panic attack. I think… Cain I think he saw Alastair.” At the mention of Dean’s tormentor, he cried out and started clawing at his face. Castiel scrambled over to Dean and pulled him into a tight embrace, restraining his arms, legs, and body by wrapping himself around Dean as much as possible. 

Cain spoke quietly into a walkie talkie. “Uriel, shut the doors now. No one in or out until I give the word.” 

Cain turned to Castiel and said authoritatively, “I’ll take care of this. You take care of him.” He handed Castiel the key to his private room and walked out, passing Victor and Pamela on his way.

Victor helped Castiel to get Dean to Cain’s private play room, with Pamela bringing their personal items and Dean’s clothes.    
  


After several hours of intense aftercare, Dean had come around enough to handle the walk through the club and into the car. Castiel was worried that Dean would take a long time to heal from this incident.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Castiel had wanted to postpone the gallery opening the next day, but Dean wouldn’t hear of it. Dean insisted that it was the first mainstream exposure for Cas, and he’d worked so hard for so long. Dean would never forgive himself if Castiel lost that opportunity because of him.

So they lounged in the living room and Dean gave in to his secret desire for cuddling. To forestall any teasing from his brother, Dean made it his personal mission to gross his brother out with cute couply stuff. By the time they all went to bed, Dean felt a little bit of his equilibrium return. He attributed part of that to having both Sammy and Cas present. It made him feel more safe, not that he’d admit that.

The next morning brought bustling activity in the form of hurricane Gabriel. He waltzed in (literally) sucking on the ever-present Blow Pop and bearing coffee.

“Hola, amigos! What’s the 411 this fine gay morning?!” he said as he floated over to the kitchen, depositing the coffee carrier onto the kitchen island. He was dressed in a suit, which surprised Dean—until he paid attention to the details of it. The suit was a nice darker brown tweed, but it had vertical stripes about an inch wide in a very dark burnt orange, just enough to provide a counterpoint to the brown. The waistcoat was the same, but he was wearing a lighter orange shirt with a mid-toned orange and gold paisley cravat. He looked like a high-class 1970’s reject.

Dean and Cas were at the dining table eating eggs and toast when Gabe made his grand entrance. “Morning, Gabe,” Dean greeted through a mouthful of eggs.

“Hey, Ken doll, what’s the haps?” Gabe handed out the coffee and sat next to his brother.

“Mmmmm, thank you for the coffee, Gabriel,” Cas said as he took a deep whiff of the steam. “My favorite,” he murmured happily, taking a sip.

“I just thought I’d stop by and OH MY GOD who is this Adonis walking around your loft, Cassie?! You’ve been holding out on me!” Then he gasped, holding his hand to his chest and looking back and forth between Sam and Cas, “Are you? Is he? Are all three of you—” Gabe trailed off, wagging his finger back and forth between Cas, Sammy, and Dean. The look on his face was priceless as he stared at a shirtless Sam, towel-drying his hair.

“Gabe, meet my little brother Sam, Sam the comedian is Cas’ twin Gabriel,” Dean supplied, not even trying to hide his amusement. At least it was something to laugh at, seeing as how Dean was feeling a bit off that morning. 

“Sooooo,” Gabe coos, sauntering over to Sam, “Greek god just happen to run in the family, or what? And how  _ do _ you maintain such a...chiseled physique?” He was practically petting Sam’s bicep as he drooled. Sam, for his part, was trying his best to discretely back away, even going so far as to cover his chest with the towel. “Tell me, Samsquatch, how do you feel about hot gay sex?” he asked, winking lasciviously.

“Dean?” Sam questioned, still backing away.

“Hey Gabe, leave my little brother alone, would ya? He’s way too straight-laced for you. Doesn’t even enjoy sugary things.”

Gabriel gasped again, like this was the biggest sacrilege he’d ever heard. It distracted him enough, though, for Sam to sneak back to his room to finish dressing.

Once Sam was out of the room, Dean told Gabe, “Hey Gabe, lay off my brother, okay? He’s coming off a really bad breakup and I don’t think he’s quite at the needing a huge distraction phase. Seriously, if he seems game—I can’t believe I’m even saying this—then go for it. Until then, play nice, m’kay?” Dean finished, chomping on the last strip of bacon. “Good, now that that’s settled, what are you actually doing here?”

Meanwhile, Cas had been silently nursing his coffee, seemingly determined to finish it before he could handle his brother’s presence. Dean could commiserate some days.

“Well, Dean-O, I am Cassie’s agent, and his gallery opening is today, so I thought I’d, oh, I don’t know, work?” He quirked a challenging eyebrow at Dean.

“Fine,” Dean said, mildly testy. He felt itchy, almost like his skin was crawling. He felt a bad mood coming on and, not wanting to cause a scene, excused himself. 

He’d already taken a shower, so he just perched himself in the window in Cas’ bedroom, watching the city start it’s day. Human interaction was going to be tough. It was a good thing it wasn’t his day, and he wouldn’t be expected to really schmooze.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Castiel was mildly worried about Dean—he’d disappeared shortly after Gabriel’s appearance and hadn’t come back out for over an hour now. He figured that Dean just needed space from the whirlwind that was his brother. Castiel didn’t blame Dean; he often wished he could do the same.

But now, Castiel needed to go to the gallery to finish the last bits of the rope displays. 

After Dean had left the room, Castiel relayed the previous evening’s events to his brother. He’d reiterated his concerns about Dean’s frame of mind and the opening, but Gabriel reminded him that Dean was a big boy and could make his own decisions and called the gallery to make sure they were okay with a bit of security. Sam had backed Gabriel up, but added that he’d keep an eye on Dean as well.

Castiel rode to the gallery in the Impala with Dean, but Sam wanted to give Dean some time alone with Castiel, so he rode with Gabriel.

Dean was jittery, that much was obvious. Castiel didn’t know what to say, so he just reached his hand across the seat, lacing his pinky finger with Dean’s. Hoping that all the love he felt for Dean and didn’t yet have the courage to say was felt anyway. Dean’s pinky finger curled, trapping Castiel’s, and a private smile graced his lips. Castiel thought it was enough, for now.

The gallery opened at five, so he spent the remainder of the day rigging. The waitstaff were wearing  [ rope dresses ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/2b/21/a6/2b21a62a18f6b50d44f477589908017e.jpg) of various colors and there was one large piece in the center of the gallery. It was a  [ suspended tree of life ](http://67.media.tumblr.com/9bb77847450733d445c4428a753ab6b0/tumblr_niedg5XXjp1sqw9m2o1_1280.jpg) woven in deep greens and browns. Once the gallery opened, Castiel started tieing the model into the design, partly as demonstration and partly so the model would not be in the tie forever.  

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Dean had spent the afternoon shooting the shit with Sam, lazily watching Cas finish his ties. He answered Sam’s questions about the process as much as he could, but mostly he just zoned out, watching the ropes weave in and out, knots forming across the skin of the waitstaff or forming a huge tree in the middle of the room. It was actually quite Zen.

An hour before the opening, four large men entered the gallery. Dean perked up in surprise, walking toward the group.

“Victor, Uriel, are you here for the opening?” Dean asked, happy to see the two men, clasping hands eagerly with both.

“Hey, man, great to see you!” Victor exclaimed, returning Dean’s hand shake vigorously. “How’s tricks?”

“Same old, same old, ya know? Hey, who’r your friends?” Dean asked curiously, looking past his friends at the unknown men.

“Dean, good to see you again,” Uriel said warmly. “This is Gunner,” he said, indicating the tank of a man behind him, “and Baldur,” pointing to the more slender man, who nodded his head in greeting. “We are all here to support Castiel. This is a big opportunity for our community, you know, and we are very excited for Castiel.” Dean snickered quietly at that last. Uriel’s excited voice sounded exactly like his bouncer voice. Come to think of it, Uriel’s voice never really changed.

“But we are also here for you, Dean,” Uriel continued. 

Dean cocked his head, confused. “I don’t understand. It’s not my night…” Dean trailed off.

Uriel and Victor stepped closer, flanking Dean. Instead of feeling nervous and blocked in, he actually felt protected. “Dean,” Victor said quietly, “we were there last night, remember? Relax, man. We, all four of us, are here to make you feel safe. We protect our own, and as soon as you came to the club with Castiel, you became part of our family.” Victor squeezed his shoulder in emphasis, meeting Dean’s searching gaze.

After a minute, Dean nodded once, sharply. He lowered his eyes, blinking rapidly. Sniffing once, he looked up again, smiling. “Hey, lemme introduce you to someone. Come on,” he said, turning around and heading toward Sam. 

“Hey Samantha, wantchya to meet some people. This’s Uriel and Victor, met them at the club,” Dean slapped Victor on the shoulder gamely, then revealed, “they, uh, they were both there last night,” he murmured.

Sam’s eyes went wide at that and he jumped up. “Wow, uh, great to meet you, really. Thanks. You know, for looking out for my brother. Means a lot,” Sam finished, shaking both men’s hands firmly.

“The other yahoos are Gunner and Baldur. Apparently I’m like POTUS or something. Got my own security detail tonight,” Dean grumbled. Not that he really meant it. He was secretly very touched, and wondered if Cas had anything to do with it.

While the men got acquainted, Dean glanced around for his boyfriend. A shiver went up Dean’s spine as he felt eyes on him. He turned around, his breath catching as he witnessed walked sex striding toward him. Cas had changed his clothes to black slacks that hugged his ass, a dark grey button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a blue striped silk tie, and a black pinstriped waistcoat. Dean hadn’t realized that he had a waistcoat kink, but that thing was sure doing things to his dick! How was it even possible for one’s mouth to go dry and drool at the  same time?

“Hello, Dean,” Cas rumbled as he pulled Dean closer with an arm wrapped around his waist. Dean hummed happily at the feel of Cas nosing at the shell of his ear. “How are you doing?”  _ How are you feeling? _

“Good, Cas, m’good,” Dean whispered. “You look...damn, Cas, you should wear this more often. I can’t wait to get you alone.”  _ I’m okay, as long as we don’t talk about it. Please. _ “Hey,” he said, “the guys are here. Was that your doing?” he questioned, leaning back a little.

“Yes, but it was Gabriel’s idea. He felt a certain amount of security might be appreciated. I insisted on the people, however. I felt that hiring a firm would be a lot less personal, and that you might be comfortable with Victor and Uriel. You know them, they know you. I just—” Castiel’s last sentence was cut off as Dean smashed their lips together in a searing kiss.

“Thank you, Cas.” Giving one last gentle smile to Cas, Dean turned to the group of men behind him. “Come on ladies, let’s go look at some dirty pictures!” he said with as much bravado as he could muster.

“Dean,” Sam whined, “I don’t really need to see you naked and tied up.”

“Aww, come on Sammy, when did you get to be such a prude? My face isn’t even in them.” Dean retorted teasingly.

“That’s not it, Dean. I just… I’ve seen you like that before, okay? I saw the crime scene photos,” he replied, frowning and lowering his voice. “I saw the pictures that Alastair took. I know this is something you consented to, even enjoyed. But I can’t get those images out of my head, okay?” he finished, giving Dean a pained look.

Dean gulped, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t know Alastair had taken pictures. He thought back to Bela’s threat months ago, when she cajoled him into the article that brought Cas into his life. With a tightness in his voice, he told Sam, “Yeah, sure. I can see that.” Automatically schooling his features, he convinced Sam to go look at the other exhibits, reminding him that Victor and Pamela were nearby.

Dean watched with foreboding as Sam walked away. That feeling was overridden by seeing his brother be approached by Sarah Blake. She was obviously flirting with him and Sam wasn’t shutting her down. Hunh. In that moment, Dean knew Sam was going to be okay. Now if only Dean could say the same thing about himself.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Castiel knew going in that he couldn’t spend every second with Dean, and that hurt his heart because of how fragile the sub was today. He’d tried his best not to treat Dean that way, letting Dean know all the fussing, as Dean called it, was an extension of the aftercare. He wasn’t sure how well it was doing, because Dean was still wound pretty tight. The sub was doing his best to hide it, but Castiel knew. He was surprised Sam hadn’t said anything, but Gabriel was doing a pretty good job of distracting him by flirting incessantly. It seemed, though, that Sam was actually taken by the gallery owner, Sarah Blake. After that, Gabriel seemed intent on playing wingman for Sam, much to the younger man’s embarrassment. At least Gabriel wasn’t bugging him or Dean. 

After the conversation that morning with Gabriel, Castiel had called Victor for help. Victor agreed readily to act as impromptu security, seeing as how he would be there anyway to support Castiel, along with Pamela, Uriel, Cain, and a few others. The kink community in Chicago, and especially at the club, greatly respected Castiel as a Dom and an artist. Pamela had gotten on the line and promised she would do her best to stick close to Dean. As a sub and a therapist she knew herself what it’s like to safeword. Safewording because he saw his tormentor was just too terrifying to even imagine.

The opening went well. Castiel was pulled from one person to another, fielding questions and compliments. He tried to circle back to Dean as much as he could, giving smiles and receiving strained ones in return. On one pass he saw Pamela doing her best to inject humor into the evening. Pamela was not one to be ignored, and her efforts were rewarded with the occasional half smile and huff of a chuckle. Seeing that made Castiel relax a bit, more able to concentrate on the patrons that he was trying to convince to buy his work. 

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Dean walked around the gallery sipping a beer. The itchiness underneath his skin was getting worse, and he had the feeling of being watched. His head was on a swivel, trying to see the faces of everyone near him. 

He stopped in front of one of the images of himself, examining it with a critical eye. Objectively, it was an amazing photograph. The lighting and composition were intense. It was black and white and very large. On the other hand, it was him, on display for everyone to see. He knew his body was nice, but… At least in his current state, his self-esteem was not the best. 

He moved on to the exhibits by the other artists, trying to clear his head. He came around one painting hanging by wires in the middle of the room, and saw that same malicious sneer from last night. 

“No, please, no” he mumbled to himself, backing up. Looking around for his security goons and finding none of them, he wove his way through the crowd, hoping to get lost in the throng. Needing to get away, he slowly and circuitously made his way toward the front door.

♢♦♢♦♢♦

It had been awhile since Castiel had seen Dean, so he cast about the crowd, looking for him. Not seeing his boyfriend, he walked around the gallery with purpose. He needed a kiss, needed to see and touch Dean, just to tide him over for the meantime. 

As he came near the front door, he caught a glimpse of Dean’s back as he headed out the door.  _ What the…? _ Castiel was confused as to why Dean would be leaving. Maybe he just needed a little bit of air, what with the crowd and everything. So he followed, if anything just to get his kiss.

“Dean, hey Dean! Wait up!” Castiel called as he chased after him. Dean either didn’t hear him, or didn’t want to. Confusion and worry set in as Dean got in the Impala and left. He stood there, dumbfounded, for several minutes before turning back to go inside. He wanted to find out why Dean’s so-called ‘security’ wasn’t with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And herein starts the angsty portion of our programming.


	17. Chapter 16 Fight or Flight

_ Fuck fuck fuck fuck, _ Dean thought as he tried to keep his cool and not gain attention. He reminded himself to walk, not run, to the Impala, but the last few steps were met with what little control Dean had over himself beginning to slip away. He could feel it tangibly, the panic starting to set in. As soon as he slipped behind the wheel, the only place he as  _ always _ felt safe, he totally broke down. He felt worthless, He realized at the gallery opening that he loved Cas. The lengths that the Dom went to to make Dean feel safe while in the crowd of strangers made Dean feel precious. But realizing that he loved Cas brought on a panic attack. He’d never been in love before. He was afraid of the loss of control, the vulnerability. He was afraid of his judgement. He thought about how wonderful Cas was and how much he deserved someone who wasn’t broken, wasn’t a dirty used whore. Someone not pathetic with PTSD and paranoia. Clearing the tears he put the car in gear and drove off, aiming toward Kansas.

What few rational thoughts Dean had were mainly focused on not bringing attention to himself, trying to blend in. Seeing someone watching him in the midst of a panic attack had been the last straw. If it really was Alastair—Dean was seriously questioning himself that he’d really seen Alastair—then he’d come back… Dean didn’t know what to do. He knew what he  _ wanted _ to do; he wanted to kill the monster who took so much from him. But he had to admit to himself, grudgingly, that he wasn’t sure if he had the chops to do it. He’d been wound tightly for the past few months, feeling like he was being watched wherever he went. This was either proof that he was totally losing his shit, or he was right and he really was being watched. He wasn’t sure which he prefered.

He pulled up to Cas’ building with thoughts of leaving Baby idling, but he didn’t want to risk her being stolen. He bounded up the stairs, into Cas’ loft, and hastily stuffed his belongings into his duffle. He spared a glance around the bedroom, silently saying goodbye. He briefly thought about leaving a note for Cas, but he was reluctant to stay in one place for too long. 

His eyes welled up as he left, but he quickly shut down thoughts of Cas. He couldn’t think about how he’d been the happiest he’d ever been. He’d finally had something, someone, for himself. Someone that he didn’t have to worry about taking care of, that took care of him. Someone to love, to maybe have a future with. He allowed himself a brief moment of grief as he laid his head on the steering wheel, but only a brief moment. He reminded himself that he was doing this for Cas. He needed to protect Cas. If this was Alastair, Cas could be a target of the psycho’s twisted rage. If it wasn’t Alastair, well, Dean was protecting Cas from him. Dean was damaged goods. Paranoia, anxiety, nightmares...hell, he had a security system to rival heads of state. He just couldn’t do that to Cas. Cas deserved someone whole, someone who hadn’t been carved into like a pumpkin and had his emotional guts removed, only to be replaced with a candle illuminating all his inadequacies. 

No, this was for the best, he thought, as he got onto I-55 headed south. He’d go home, to Lawrence, pack up what essentials he needed, and hit the road. He hadn’t done it since he was fifteen, but living out of the Impala and off the grid was not unfamiliar to him. He could do it again. He didn’t want to leave his family behind, but he had to, to protect them. Besides, he didn’t deserve them. Everyone he loved either left or was taken from him. The thoughts that it must be him solidified the day his dad dumped him and Sam at Bobby’s door, never to be seen again. It had a direct correlation to what John saw when he picked up Dean from school that afternoon, what Dean was doing. Dean knew that Dad leaving was his fault, and he felt guilt every day for Sam not having his dad around. Dean knew he didn’t deserve it, so he accepted it. 

God, to think he’d convinced himself, no, deluded himself into thinking that it wasn’t his fault, that everything happened  _ to him _ , not  _ because of _ him. Fuck, what a crock of shit. He was the broken one, the one that fucked up everything he touched. He tried to take small comfort in leaving Cas before he corrupted the kind, caring man. There really was no comfort in that thought, though. Just another thing Dean was deluding himself over. 

Dean talked himself into the notion that Sammy would be fine. He had a life in California, he had a direction, a purpose in life. He had Bobby and Ellen supporting him, cheering him on. He didn’t need a deadbeat basketcase dragging him down. Sure, Dean would miss his little brother, his everything, like hell. It would be like cutting out a part of himself. But he had to. This was the only way to protect Sammy. It would be his last act of taking care of his brother, to disappear. 

Somewhere along the way his phone started ringing. Dean didn’t even look at the caller ID because it would either be Sam or Cas, and he didn’t have to mental fortitude to deal with either one of them. So he turned his phone off and tossed it across the seat.

He stopped for gas in a small town called Dwight, but didn’t think of snacks or a bathroom break. The only thing on his mind was getting as much road behind him as possible. He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face tiredly. He hadn’t slept well, despite what he’d told Cas, and he’d been running on adrenaline for almost two hours. He felt a crash coming and wanted to get to someplace anonymous to sleep a few hours. Maybe find an access road to a corn field or something where he could hide the Impala and conk out. Right now, though, more driving. Cranking the music up to stay awake, he pulled out of the gas station and kept driving.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Castiel rushed back into the gallery, looking for Victor or Sam.  _ Why weren’t they with Dean, dammit? _ He tried his best to remain calm, he was in a crowd of people after all. He was quickly falling apart on the inside though.  _ Maybe he told one of the guys he was stepping out and just didn’t want to disturb me. He’s so kind and thoughtful like that. _ Deep down, Castiel knew that wasn’t the case, but he had to try anything to keep the panic at bay.

He found Sam first, still talking with Sarah. He apologized to Sarah, telling her he needed to borrow Sam for a moment. 

“Hey Cas, what’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Sam asked, mildly concerned.

“Have you seen your brother?” Castiel asked hurriedly.

Sam pulled up straight, a serious look taking instant residence on his face. “No, he was with Victor so I’ve been talking to Sarah for almost an hour now.” Sam immediately took off, looking for Victor, or even any of the other members of the impromptu security detail.

_ Hmpf _ , Castiel thought,  _ security my ass.  _ Castiel tried to keep up with Sam through the crowd, but Sam’s legs were longer and Castiel got stopped several times with greetings and well-wishes. By the time he caught up with the man, he was huddled together with Victor, Pamela, and Uriel.

Sam turned to face Castiel as he walked up to the group and said tightly, “No one’s seen him in fifteen minutes. According to Uriel Dean said he was going to the bathroom but he never came back. Uriel said he looked sick, but Dean just claimed claustrophobia and the crowd,” he finished, frowning.

For his part, Uriel looked like he wanted to commit Hari Kuri. Castiel wanted so badly to blame the man. After all, what use was having a bodyguard if they didn’t, you know, guard the body. He couldn’t blame him, though. If Dean was dropping, which Castiel seriously felt that was what was happening, nothing would have stopped him from turning tail. Dean would want to be alone, or just alone with Castiel. With that off the table, he’d go for total isolation. 

He should have postponed the opening. This was all his fault. He was a bad Dom for not seeing his sub, his boyfriend, his  _ love _ in pain. Castiel let that last thought wash over him, trying it on for size. He realized that yes, he did indeed love Dean, was in love with him. Had been for a while, to be honest. And it was entirely possible he’d completely ruined it now. How could Dean ever trust him again? If he let Dean drop this badly, how could Dean trust him? How could Castiel ever trust himself again?

Castiel was pacing and worrying a spot in the corner of the gallery, mumbling these things to himself. He didn’t realize anyone was near him until a large hand clasped his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Castiel.” 

Looking up into the soft blue eyes of his good friend, his shoulders slumped and sighed, “Cain. I screwed up. I didn’t see that he was in trouble during the scene. I was trying to trust him to safeword, to know his limits. Instead, I waited too long. I didn’t see him dropping. I didn’t do enough aftercare last night. I-I didn’t do enough! Oh, God, I fucked up, Cain. He’s never going to trust me again!” Practically hysterical, he was pulled into a tight hug with his head cradled under Cain’s chin. A hand rubbed in large, slow, soothing circles on his back. He tried to breathe in and out with each circle, a relaxation technique he’d been taught years ago to help with drop. 

“Fuck,” he muttered into Cain’s collar, “I’m dropping, aren’t I?”

“I’d say so, yes. I know this isn’t the first time you’ve had a sub drop—”

“No,” Castiel interrupted, “but this is by far the most serious and I don’t even know the full extent of it. He thought he saw Alastair last night, Cain. He brushed it off as being his usual paranoid self because of performing a scene in public for the first time since...since two years ago. I should have seen this coming,” he repeated, mostly to himself.

Cain looked around them and saw Gabriel hovering. Catching Gabe’s eye, he muttered to him that a bottle of water and a candy or protein bar was needed, then he turned his attention back to Castiel.

“First, I know you, Castiel, and you are a very competent Dominant. You are well-versed in drop and proper aftercare. This was probably unavoidable. Especially since…” he trailed off.

Castiel jerked back to look at his friend. “Especially since  _ what _ , Cain. What do you know?” he asked accusatorily.

“All I know, Castiel, is that after the incident last night I did a sweep. One of the waitstaff was unconscious in the kitchen and the security feed was tampered with. I’m sorry to say there is no video log for several hours. I’m sorry, but it seems Dean’s paranoia may be for good reason,” Cain said remorsefully. 

Castiel lowered his head and whispered, “I should never have left him alone. No wonder he took off.”

“Castiel,” Cain said, “this is not your fault. Obviously there are external forces at work,” he said, grabbing the Hershey bar and water from Gabriel with a quiet thanks. Forcing Castiel to eat and drink, he continued. “Now, the first thing to do, after we’ve taken care of you, is to find Dean and see where he’s at in his headspace. Do you know where he’d go? Have you tried to call him?”

“The only place he really knows here is my loft. Well, that and the club, but I doubt he’d go there,” Castiel replied through a mouthful of chocolate. Already, the sugar was working it’s way through his system and making him feel better. He was now able to take deep centering breaths, so he pulled out his phone and dialed Dean’s number. It went to voicemail after several rings so he tried again. This time it went to voicemail right away.

“Shit,” he said, frustrated. “He turned his phone off.” Castiel pocketed his phone in disgust. Dean didn’t even want to talk to him. How was he ever going to fix this?

“What do I do, Cain?” he asked his friend, unable to hide the fear and panic.

“You go home and see if he’s there. He should not be alone right now. I’ll let Gabriel know where you’ve gone and he’ll cover for you.”

With that, Castiel discreetly left the building. Once in his car, he called Charlie with his Bluetooth.

“Hello?” she answered, after the third ring.

“Charlie, hello, it’s Castiel. Dean may be missing,” he blurted out.

“What?!” she cried out. “What the hell happened?” If Charlie was anything like Anna, the fiery redhead was not one to be trifled with.

_ That’s the $64,000 question _ , Castiel thought to himself grimly.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Dean was lost in his thoughts and the hypnotic effect of the highway, letting the comfort wash over him. He’d barely noticed a sign for Cayuga three miles ahead when the Impala started sputtering and came to a stop.

“The fuck?!” Dean exclaimed as he guided the car to the side of the road. He tried starting the car again, but it wouldn’t turn over. 

_ Okay, Winchester,  _ this _ is a problem you can solve. _ Most reasons a car won’t start can be boiled down to no fire or no fuel. The engine actually tried to turn over, albeit pathetically, so fire wasn’t an issue. Fuel it is, then. He knew he had a full tank, so the engine wasn’t getting looped in on the fun.

Getting out of the car in a huff, he popped the hood. He was fucking pissed because he maintained his baby himself. He’d been the only mechanic to touch her in the last ten years. Maybe he hadn’t tightened down the oil or fuel filters?

Dean was about to check those, so immersed in his problem, when he heard footsteps in the gravel behind him. He froze, trying not to give away that he knew another person was there.

“Dean, my boy, it’s so good to see you,” came the nasally voice from behind him. 

Dean started to whip around to face his attacker, heart in his throat. He got far enough around to see the butt of a gun come down and hit the side of his head. He had just enough time to realize he was truly fucked before the world went black.


	18. Chapter 17 Bring Back the Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for rape/non-con

Charlie lost the signal from Dean’s phone just after Pontiac, but she’d lojacked his car. 

“Hey Cas, I lost his phone but I found the car. Don’t tell him I lojacked Baby. Well, until he asks, because he’s gonna. You know, ask. Anyway—”

“Charlie,” Castiel interrupted, “you’re babbling. Please, where is Dean?” he asked through the Bluetooth connection as he pulled up to his loft. He had a feeling Dean wasn’t there, but he had to try. Besides, he had no idea where else to look.

“The GPS on my lojack says that he’s stationary on I-55 just south of Odel, Illinois, which is just north of Cayuga. I’ll text you the coordinates,” she offered, distressed, if the continued rambling was anything to go by. “Geez, Cas, what’s going on? I honestly thought he was just being super paranoid. Is he just being Dean or is he really missing?” 

“Charlie, breathe,” he said, attempting a soothing voice. “I’m-I’m not really that sure. He had...a rough night last night. I thought he was better today, but this evening he took off all of a sudden…” he trailed off, pulling into his parking space at the loft. “Listen, I’m at my place. I’m checking to see if he’s here, just in case. I’ll keep you informed, alright?” he finished.

“Yeah, sure thing, Cas. I’ll let you know if the Impala moves, ‘k?” Charlie was trying to sound hopeful, Castiel could tell. He’d only met her the once, but she was kind of an easy read, even for him. Eternal optimism seemed to be her natural state of affairs. Oddly enough, she reminded him of Gabriel.

Hanging up with Charlie, Castiel made his way up to his loft, foregoing the elevator in favor of working off some nervous energy on the stairs. 

Castiel wasn’t sure what he’d find when he got home. Sure, he hoped that he found Dean, sitting on the couch, drinking a beer, and bitching about a gallery opening not being his thing. He hated the fact that the tight ball of dread in his belly was founded, as Dean was nowhere to be found. In fact, Castiel found that Dean’s duffle was gone. 

Dean had taken off. 

Stifling the panic and self-recrimination bubbling to the surface, Castiel took a few deep breaths and thought about his next move. Pacing the main living area he wracks his brain. Dean dropped, that much was obvious. Castiel should have seen it coming, but the gallery opening split his attention. 

He was starting to spiral again, so he focused on Cain’s words of encouragement. He had to focus on Dean. First order of business—find Dean.  _ One step at a time, worry about the rest as you come to it. _ He repeated this mantra over and over as he dialed Victor’s number.

_ “Hey, Castiel, did you find him?”  _ Victor asked when he picked up on the second ring.

“Victor,” Castiel started, “I need your help. Dean—Dean took off. I’m pretty sure he’s dropping, and badly. He took off,” he trailed off, panic swirling in his gut again.

_ “Okay, start at the beginning. When did this start?” Victor enquired. _

“Last night, when he safeworded, we came home and pretty much did aftercare the entire rest of the evening. Sam stayed close, too. I thought he was okay this morning, but during the opening he was really quiet. I thought...I thought it was just the crowd. I turned around to find him and just barely caught sight as he was practically running out the door.” Castiel was out of breath as he was pacing frantically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I tried to catch him, but by the time I got out the door he was gone.”

Castiel was worried. He knew Dean had past trauma, that he was very security conscious. Maybe the failed scene last night triggered his PTSD. Victor’s voice interrupted his near hysteria.

_ “Okay, dropping today is not a surprise after last night,”  _ Victor said, exuding a calm aura. _ “He was pretty keyed up. I honestly haven’t seen anyone freak out that bad in a scene before. That aside, you saw him take off. Where have you looked?” _ he asked.

Castiel tried to focus his thoughts, taking several deep breaths. Feeling mildly more centered, he answered, “Just my loft. But I came back here and all his stuff is gone. I called Charlie, she’s his best friend and good with computers. She said the GPS on his cell is off, but she was able to locate the Impala. It’s stationary on I-55 just north of Cayuga,” he informed, walking toward the door to leave. “Can you, I don’t know, send someone? Come to the rescue? I don’t even know what I’m asking for at this point,” he babbled, distraught.

“ _ Well, officially I can’t do anything until it’s been 48 hours, then we can file a missing persons. Unofficially, I have a few buddies in the department that owe me favors, including the chopper pilot. I can see if they can lend a hand, _ ” Victor said optimistically. He also said he’d put out a BOLO on Alastair.

A loud knock resounded through the living space as the door shook with the force. “Hold on Victor,” Castiel interrupted. “Someone’s at the door.” He strode over and threw the door open, anxious to get rid of whomever was delaying his search for his boyfriend.

The man at his front door was tall with salt and pepper hair. His eyes were tired, weary, and somehow familiar. Castiel’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted.

“Who are you?” he asked suspiciously. The visitor’s arrival at this specific time was disconcerting.

“I’m John Winchester, and I need your help to find my son,” he said, matter-of-factly.

Castiel stared, mouth opening and closing as he searched but failed to find words. Finally, shaking himself out of the confused stupor, he brought his cell phone to his ear and said quietly, “Victor, I’m going to have to call you back, okay? Yeah, sure, I’ll keep you posted,” and hung up, still staring at the man who was supposed to be dead.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Wakefulness came slowly to Dean, with his head aching and throbbing pulses of pain that stabbed at the back of his eyes like tiny pitch forks. Squinting against the pain, he opened his eyes bit by bit, agony shooting through him. The disorientation and grogginess were familiar, though. Ice ran through his veins as he realized he’d been drugged. 

“You’ve been a bad boy, Dean,” came a nasally voice that brought consciousness to the forefront. 

Dean quickly took stock and found he was chained, dangling by his hands from something high up—what he didn’t know—with his toes barely touching the ground, feet chained to the floor and spread-eagled. There were bright floodlights trained on him, practically blinding him and making him feel like he was in an oven. Oh, and naked.  _ Great, _ he thought to himself,  _ just great. _ Dean lifted his head and was greeted by the sight of the one person he never wanted to see again. Alastair. 

“You let someone else touch you. I thought I taught you better than that, my boy,” Alastair simpered. “I  _ own you _ . Your life is forfeit to me,” he said angrily.

Dean took in his surroundings, cataloguing any item that may be useful as a tool of escape or a weapon. That’s when he saw the cars across the warehouse floor. The same anonymous junkers he’d noticed on his security feed. He felt simultaneously sick at the knowledge that this lunatic had been following him for months at a minimum, but also grateful for Charlie and her security systems.

Alastair stalked around Dean, tutting as he went. “I’m so disappointed, Dean. You covered up my marks,” he said as he trailed a single finger over Dean’s tattoo. Deann flinched and tried to get as far away from that finger as possible, but the chains held him fast. “Oh well,” Alastair sighed, “I’ll just have to make more.” With that, he walked over to a wooden workbench with an array of items laid out.

Dean couldn’t get a good look at it, but he was sure it contained various implements of torture. Last time he’d been beaten, sliced, and violated.  _ Raped _ , he reminded himself. Somehow saying the word, accepting what actually happened to him, what was likely to happen again, gave him some measure of strength. A small measure, but he’d take what he could get. 

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Alastair said jovially as he brought down a thick rubber flogger down on Dean’s back over and over again.

Dean was able to keep from yelling out for the first three strikes, but when the flogger broke the skin, slicing through his back, he couldn’t keep it in anymore. He owned it, though, channeling his rage and grief and bitterness and helplessness out into the wordless screams sounding through the night.

Alastair never once said a word. Dean thought that he could put up with the taunting trash talk Alastair used last time, but the silence—except for his screams—was slowly driving him insane. The physical blows he could handle. He’d already dissociated from the pain, only whimpering through the whip to his torso and legs, and grunting through the lead pipe. But the silence...

Dean’s head hung low, sweat running down his skin in rivulets in a poor attempt to cool his body. A blindfold was tied over his eyes, sending another wave of panic through Dean. The last time Alastair blindfolded him...shit. Dean braced himself as he felt Alastair behind him. He started shaking uncontrollably when he heard a zipper.  Bony hands with a crushing grip on his hips, the head of head of his torturer’s cock first nudging at his opening, brutally forcing it’s way in. The blood and sweat mingling gave off a sweet-salty odor, running down Dean’s back, and was by no means an adequate form of lubrication. Dean’s screams returned as Alastair bottomed out and immediately began pounding roughly.

Tears rolled down Dean’s cheeks as he realized he was hard. Alastair was hitting his prostate, likely on purpose, and jerking his cock. The physical stimulation combined with Dean’s inherent masochism and Dean was lost. He sobbed as he came all over Alastair’s hand, shame and self-hatred washing over him. A come-soaked hand wiped down Dean’s face and returned to Dean’s hip for another half dozen thrusts or so, before Alastair was spilling into Dean. 

Dean dejectedly remembered the bastard not using a condom last time, either.  _ Fuck, _ he thought,  _ I’m gonna have to go through all that shit testing again. Goddammit. _ Hey, at least he wasn’t resigned to death. Yet. 

The next moment revised his feeling, however, as a bucket of ice water was thrown at him. Gasping for air, he thought,  _ This is it, I’m going to die. Please make it quick, _ though he would never plead for that out loud. He would never give Alastair the satisfaction of hearing Dean beg.

Dean just couldn’t understand why this was happening to him. Why Alastair had targeted him.

Breaking Dean out of his introspection, Alastair said, “Don’t you even want to know why I picked you?” he asked, as if reading Dean’s mind and finally breaking his silence. “What made you so special? Well, you’re not special, Dean,” he sneered. “Nowadays you’re not even a hole to fuck. You’re nothing. Nothing but a means to an end.” 

Dean was confused and tried to ask what Alastair meant through swollen lips. “Did you really think this was all about you?” Alastair asked, laughing. “No, Dean, it has absolutely nothing to do with you.” 

“Then what’s this all about?” Dean spat out. “Or are you just a sick fuck that gets off on drugging and torturing innocent people?” Dean felt indignation take hold in his gut and cradled it, slowly fanning it’s embers, hoping to grow it into flames, something he could use.

“HA! Innocent? You think you’re innocent?” Alastair shouted harshly. “No, this is a case of the sins of the father, Dean. Where is he? Hmm? Where is dear old Daddy?” 

Dean laughed, the irony of the situation not lost on him. “You’re gonna have to take a trip in the Wayback Machine, man. John’s dead. Been dead for ten years.” He shook his head resentfully. It figured this would have something to do with his father. The man was ruining his life from the grave. As if ruining his childhood wasn’t enough. “What’s this got to do with my old man, anyway?” 

Alastair backhanded him across the jaw in answer. “Where is John Winchester?!” 

The calmness in his body is belied by the somewhat frantic look in his eye. “I told you, asshole, he’s dead,” desperate to get Alastair to believe him.  

“No, Dean, he’s not. I almost caught him three years ago, but I just missed him. I figured I could lure him out by taking you, but he didn’t fall for it. I guess you just weren’t that important to him.” Dean was shaking his head,  _ nononono _ his only thought. “After that, it was just fun to hurt Winchester’s kid.” 

“What the fuck are you even talking about? Who the fuck are you?” Dean struggled against the chains as Alastair just laughed and made shallow cuts along one thigh. This had gone from creepy stalker guy who liked to torture random people to psycho with a vendetta real quick. Dean had to keep it together. If he lost it now, it was all over. 

He began to regret leaving Cas’ the way he did. It’s funny how the important things become clear in a moment of crisis. Cas had known about Dean’s issues from the get go. If he didn’t want to get involved with Dean’s shit, he wouldn’t have. How can it be so clear now, when he might not ever see the man again? That thought damn near paralyzed him.  _ Use it, _ he thought to himself. He dug deep, dredging up the militaristic training his father—oh the irony of that one—had subjected him to. Hell, if this was about his father, then that training may be the only thing to keep him alive. 

“Okay, I’ll bite. I get that you’re gonna kill me, probably slowly and painfully. Can you at least tell me why I’m gonna die?” Get him talking. If the psychopath is talking, he’s not cutting. Dean learned before that Alastair loved to hear the sound of his own nasally obnoxious voice. He could endure that hell if it meant seeing Castiel again. He had to distract Alastair long enough to formulate a plan. God, could it be true? Could his dad really be alive? He refused to let himself go down that rabbit hole of speculation, otherwise he’d never get himself out of here. Wherever here was. 

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” the bastard tutted, waving his knife back and forth. Dean hated that sound more than anything in that moment. “I know what you’re doing. Distract and delay. Classic technique for prisoners of war. Very well, I might as well indulge your curiosity,” he said magnanimously. “It’s the last thing you’ll ever get. Besides, he’s not here yet. We’ve got some time to...kill.” 

Dean braced himself for some harsh truths. He didn’t really expect Alastair to lie to him. This was the asshole’s endgame, there was no reason to lie. Still, Dean had a feeling he was not going to like what he heard.

“You see, your father and I served together in the military. John Winchester was special ops and I was military intelligence,” he explained, slowly circling Dean like a lion. Or a hyena. “He was assigned to protect me in Afghanistan. The first time the US went there, when the Russians thought they ruled the world. Your father disagreed with my interrogation techniques. He was soft, weak. Whined about the Geneva Convention. How were we supposed to follow the rules when they kept changing them on us?” he yelled indignantly. “So your traitor father went to his commanding officer and mine. Got me court-martialed and sent to Leavenworth. Luckily, I have friends in high places and got my conviction overturned. But not reinstated. John took that from me. So I will take everything from him. I wonder if he knows that I’m the one that set the fire that killed his lovely wife.” 

Dean roared with rage at the information. This was the man his father hunted. The man that ruined their family. Dean would make him pay. Seething, he told Alastair “I’m going to kill you, you son of a bitch. And it’s going to hurt,” Dean growled, low and deep.

“So pretty and so dumb. You have to get loose first. And that’s not going to happen. Now, where were we?” 

Alastair walked toward Dean again, waving the knife in the air. One long, agonizingly slow slice from his right collarbone to his left hip left Dean screaming himself into unconsciousness.


	19. Chapter 18 Secrets and Lies

Castiel hung up with Victor and and stared open-mouthed at John. He was wary of the man. First and foremost because he was supposed to be dead. Second to that was his abandonment of his sons. Castiel may not have the best relationship with his parents, but at least they were both there. 

But, Castiel reminded himself, John may have information on Dean. He seems to know at least a little of what’s going on, if he knows Dean is missing.

“You’d better start explaining or I call the cops. Dean told me you were dead. What the hell is going on?” he demanded harshly, not opening the door any further.

“We’re wasting time,” John replied impatiently, “we need to get on the road. Dean’s life depends on it.” He saw Castiel’s stone face and closed stance and relented with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll explain everything when we’re on the road, I promise. Now, get your ass in gear! We don’t have much time.” He turned around and walked toward the stairwell.

Castiel felt he had no choice but to go with John. He needed to find Dean and this man may have the answers. Switching on the GPS function of his cell phone, he followed the man out to his truck.

Once they were on the road, Castiel had hoped John would start talking. When no explanation was forthcoming, Castiel forced the issue.

“Okay, I got in the truck with you. You owe me an explanation. Right now, or so help me. I have the state police on speed dial.” Castiel didn’t get angry very easily, but his hackles were up and he’d been in protective mode ever since he figured out Dean was in a drop. It’s not something he would be able to turn off until he could hold his kitten again. 

Heaving a great sigh, John started talking. “I’m not surprised he told you I’m dead,” he said with great sadness. “I guess I deserve it. How much do you know about how the boys grew up?”

Cautiously, Castiel replied, “I know about the fire, and Mary’s death. I know that you went off the rails and basically lived out of the Impala for the next ten years on some sort of revenge quest. I know that you dumped the boys on Bobby’s doorstep when Dean started high school. I know that Dean pretty much raised Sam. And that they both want nothing to do with you.” Castiel didn’t feel it was his place to share anything about his experience with Alastair. It wasn’t his story to tell.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, leaving my boys with Bobby. I knew he’d take care of ‘em like they were his own. But… I don’t know. I can’t see things turning out any better than they have.” He rubbed a hand down his face in a gesture eerily similar to Dean.

“It didn’t start with Mary’s death. I was in the Marines before Dean was born. Special Forces. We had an asset to protect. Alastair Rolston.” Castiel gasped quietly. “He was torturing enemy combatants. He made a game of it. Makes GITMO look like Disneyland. I turned him in and he went to Fort Leavenworth. I didn’t re-up after that tour. It was too much and I had a family at home.

“Then Mary died. It took me a few years, but I finally figured out that Alastair was the one that set the fire. He killed my Mary. By the time I learned he did it, he’d already been released from Leavenworth. Friends in high places, I guess,” he said, ruefully. “So I took the boys off grid. We moved around a lot. I knew we’d all be targets. I didn’t want that life for my sons, but what choice did I have?”

Castiel figured that was a rhetorical question so he kept quiet. He didn’t want to distract the driver, either.

After a hefty pause, John continued. “I got wind of Alastair, that he was looking for me. I left ‘em with Bobby to protect them. Knew he’d take care of ‘em. But then he took Dean. Knew it was him, couldn’t have been anyone else. I also knew it was a trap for me. I found him, though. By the time I got there Alastair was gone. The bastard was trying to lure me out so i stayed hidden. I wanted to show myself so many times. But Alastair is still out there and I can’t risk it. Everything he’s been doing is to lure me out, I know it. I saw him at Sam’s graduation, too,” he said quietly. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and stared out the window silently for awhile. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Castiel asked. “I appreciate you sharing all this information with me, I really do. But you’re former special ops. I’m a photographer. Why come to me? How can I possibly help you?”

“I’ve been watching you—” 

“Not creepy at all,” Castiel muttered to himself.

“—and Dean trusts you,” John continued like he hadn’t heard Castiel. “I get that you have a...unique relationship. He’ll go with you. He won’t trust me, even over Alastair. I made sure of that when I left and didn’t come back. And I can’t go to Sammy for help, either. That bridge was burned a long time ago,” he said, obviously disgusted with himself. “When we find them, Dean is gonna be in rough shape. Alastair isn’t going to be satisfied with just hurting Dean this time. He won’t pretend to be an abusive Dom this time.” 

Castiel started at that. John knew Dean was a sub. Just how closely had he been watching them? Castiel followed that train of thought with another, significantly more frightening thought. If John had been watching Dean that closely at the same time he was following Alastair… That meant Alastair had been stalking Dean for years. The enormity of the situation was just hitting him. This had been going on Dean’s whole life. It was a heady feeling, and his head was swimming trying to catch up.

“He’ll just go straight for the pain,” John pushed on, oblivious to Castiel’s inner turmoil. “When we find him, you get to Dean, get him out of there. I’ll take care of that asshole. Do you understand now? This goes deeper than Dean ever knew. It’s all my fault. Dean’s mother, moving around, leaving the boys with Bobby. It’s all my fault. I have to get him away from Rolston.”

“So how do we find them? I have the location of the Impala, but if what you say is true, Dean won’t be with it. Charlie may have lojacked his car, but she probably didn’t put something on him.”

John laughed out loud. “Don’t be so sure on that one. Charlie is one of mine. Well, not directly. Her father and I served together. He was also military intelligence, but he was on the technical side. He taught her everything she knows about coding, security, and paranoia.”

_ What the fuck, _ Castiel thought.  _ Is  _ everyone _ involved in this? _

“After her parents died, I kept an eye on her. Made sure she had enough money for school. Nudged them both in the right direction so that Dean found her when he needed security. She doesn’t know about me. Although, she may by now. She’s that good. Anyway, she put tracers in his car keys, boot heels, and under the picture of his mom in his wallet. Paranoia has it’s advantages. The signal stopped moving at an abandoned paper factory southeast of Pontiac. We’ve been driving for an hour and a half already, so we should be there soon.”

“How do you know all this about Charlie?” Castiel asked, surprised that anything could shock him at the moment. Just add it to the list of  _ what the fuck _ .

“Her dad had a signature hack. She uses the same code. It’s old, so no one thinks to look at that stuff nowadays. But it’s her way of honoring his memory. And it’s my door into her system. She’ll figure it out soon enough, but that’s okay. This ends tonight.”

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, until they finally approach the dark building. 

John killed the engine and pulled a gun out of the glove box, checking the clip before turning to Castiel. “Alastair knows we’re here,” he said gruffly. “He set this whole thing up, it’s his endgame. You stay in the car for ten minutes. Hopefully that will let you slip out undetected. Go around to the east side. There’s a service door that’s fairly hidden. I’ll lure Al out. You find Dean and get him out of here.  _ Do not wait for me. _ Do you understand? Your only job is to get Dean away.” He got out of the truck without waiting for an answer.

Castiel watched John stalk around the building with a mixture of shock and awe. He had ten minutes to contemplate the fact that special ops guys, even former ones, were scary as fuck. When time was up, he got out of the truck. Looking around for some sort of weapon, he found a tire iron behind the bench seat of the truck. Stealing his nerves by reminding himself that Dean needed him, Castiel went looking for his lover.


	20. Chapter 19 Rescue Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for brief homophobic language, depictions of torture

“Dean, you’re so boring this time,” he heard through a tunnel of sensations that had no names. He tried to float, wanted to float. Floating meant everything was gravy and nothing else mattered. Here, though. This was pain beyond limits. He felt none of the euphoria he got when he played with pain. There was no part of his body that didn’t hurt, that didn’t scream louder than AC/DC at Madison Square Garden. Every time his mind started walling off from the pain, another cut or punch or thwack of a pipe would land and make everything sharp again.

The world was spinning out of control. Dean felt drunk, felt like puking, too, but that was neither here nor there. He felt everything and nothing all at once, not knowing which way was up. Thoughts of Sam and Castiel flitted past, images flashing. He tried to hold on to them, to take comfort in them, but they stayed just beyond his grasp. 

He saw Cas coming toward him, hunched like he was trying to be stealthy. The image felt so real, but the idea was almost comical. Cas? Sneaking around and being stealthy? Besides, he was in the middle of nowhere with a psychopath that had a penchant for pain. Great, now he was hallucinating. Add it to the pile of shit he was in. 

The Cas figure ducked behind one of the hollowed out junkers and seemed to be waiting. Alastair sauntered into Dean’s field of vision, brandishing the knife.

“Again with the knife,” Dean mumbled, rolling his eyes dramatically, “that’s soooo last year, dude.” 

“You’re not even begging this time, what’s gotten into you these days?” Alastair asked, irritated. “Oh, wait, I know,” he paused, dragging his marine-issued Bowie knife down Dean’s collarbone in one smooth slice. “Does the photographer gag you, is that what’s stopping you? I mean, I love a good screamer as much as the next sadist, but the no begging thing is a little disappointing, honestly.”

Dean just stared at the floor, counting the drops splashing on the dirt, creating a puddle of his own blood. He was brought back to focus with a right hook to the jaw. Reeling, Dean laughed, spitting and adding to the puddle at his feet. Even to his own ears the laugh sounded a bit maniacal. 

“Go on, beat me as much as you want. It won’t change the fact that I have no idea where the bastard is, you sick fuck.”

Dean flinched inwardly as Alastair brought up a lead pipe, but he never felt the blow. He heard the whiney screech of a hinge in desperate need of WD-40 and saw Alastair turn toward the sound. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw hallucination Cas ( _ HalluciCas? _ his mind provided helpfully) watch intently.

Alastair turned back and sneered at Dean, “Show time,” he said excitedly as he turned around and walked away.

Dean tried to clear the cobwebs. He knew he should be trying to get away, but he couldn’t figure out for the life of him how to get out of the chains. The image of Castiel watched Alastair move off to parts unknown, but Dean couldn’t worry about that. He couldn’t fixate on who might be there, had to concentrate on freeing himself, if he could just clear his damned head and focus.

He just about jumped out of his skin, though, when the delusion of Cas ran up to him and whispered, “Oh, Dean,” as he laid his palm on Dean’s cheek. Dean found himself chasing the warmth, even though he knew it wasn’t really there.

“I’m here to get you out, Dean. Come on, we have to get you down from there.” Dean felt hands investigating his restraints and started shaking his head. Okay, it was actually more of a lolling back and forth, really.

“No no no, not real. Can’t be here,” Dean slurred, tiredly.

“I am, though,” Cas said through gritted teeth as he freed one arm.

“No, ‘m hallucinating. Don’t deserve ‘im. Left. Bad sub.” Dean was babbling nonsensically, tears starting to stream down his face.

“Oh, my dear kitten,” Cas murmured in Dean’s ear, “you are the best sub there is, and I promise that I am here with you. I’m not leaving you,” he promised as he released the other arm. Dean collapsed forward into Castiel’s arms and that was the point Dean really did believe his Dom was there to save him. The second his body touched anything else the pain sang through him, forcing a pained shout that Dean desperately tried to muffle in Cas’ shoulder.

“How?” Dean asked, confused, once they’d collapsed to the ground in a heap.

“Charlie,” Cas said simply, brushing Dean’s hair back. Dean didn’t ask any more questions, as that was a perfectly logical answer. He tried to concentrate on making his limbs move, but he was shaking too badly. Cas shrugged off his ever-present trench coat and draped it around Dean’s shoulders. As Cas massaged life back into his arms and legs, the pins and needles that followed excruciating.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered, wbe  he tried to stand at last. He leaned heavily on Cas and an overwhelming feeling of relief and affection for the man came over him. Here Dean was, naked and seriously wounded, broken. But Cas had come to get him, rescue him. He felt like Castiel, his lover and Dom, his angel, was pulling him from the depths of Hell itself. As they moved across the floor to the door, Dean vowed to himself to never take Cas for granted. Cas put himself in grave danger to take care of Dean. The least he could do to repay Cas was to let him. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” sneered Alastair. “Is the little mouse trying to scurry away? And with a friend, too. The boyfriend is trying to save the day,” he said, waving the knife back and forth, warning them against any further movement. “You boys ought to thank me,” he said magnanimously. “After all, you wouldn’t have met each other without me. Who do you think got you the article, Dean? Did you honestly think that you are important enough to have that kind of exposure?” Alastair looked very pleased with the devastated look on Dean’s face. Now Dean could add no talent hack to the list he used to constantly berate himself. He should have known better. Who would want to spotlight him? He was nobody, nothing. 

Castiel squeezed his arms around Dean and whispered close to his ear, “Don’t listen to him.” It was an order from his Dom, calming his anxiety a touch. “No matter how the article got started, the response was all about you.” His reassurance was comforting, but cut short when Alastair pointed a gun at them. They didn’t even have to be told to shut up.

“I have to say, I’m disappointed. I was hoping that it would be dear old Daddy to come get you. But I guess not even he thinks you’re worth it. I guess I’ll have to take my pound of flesh from your hide instead.” Alastair waved the gun around flippantly, never really moving it off the pair of men on the ground. “First, I’m going to cut you within an inch of your life,” he started, seeming to contemplate the best course of action. “I’m going to carve you into a whole new person,” he gloated. “And then,” he promised, “I’m going to kill your faggot lover and make you watch. And when you die, Dean, you will die with the knowledge that this is all your father’s fault. He could have saved you, but he abandoned you. Your body will be discarded to be picked clean by scavengers, and you will never be found.” 

The longer the madman’s monologue went on, the more defeated Dean felt. Alastair was right. His father left him, just like his mother and, for the most part, Sam. The people he loved most always left him.

Castiel’s arms around Dean, though, tight and grounding, reminded Dean that Cas had found him. He’d come for him, even though Dean didn’t deserve it. He pulled strength from Cas and brought himself up, lifting his chin with defiance. Time to channel his inner brat.

“Fuck you, you pus-filled windbag,” he said, low and dangerous. “You are nothing but a bad Rambo wannabe. And Stallone’s not that great an actor.” Movement caught Dean’s eye and he spit more blood to the ground to hide his reaction. It was stupid of him to think Cas would come by himself.

“Enough talk, Winchester. I’m bored now. Let’s skip to the killing part,” he replied, stalking toward Dean and Castiel. 

There was a loud crack followed by a dark red bloom of blood quickly soaking Alastair’s white button-down shirt. The sneer on his face morphed into surprised pain. He dropped to the ground, holding his stomach. 

Dean’s surprise was just as great as his father came out of the shadows, pointing his weapon at Alastair’s head. “The only killing that’s going to happen tonight is me killing you. Painfully. You will never touch my son again, you fucking asshole.” The gun pressing into the back of his head emphasized the words.

Dean was stunned, frozen with fear, wonder, pain, and a small sliver of hope. He watched in disbelief as his father coldly and methodically shot out both Alastair’s knees. No warning, no taunting, just straight to the point. Alastair looked genuinely surprised at this turn of events, and seemed to be concentrating on not bleeding out. 

Alastair looked up at John Winchester, face filled with rage. “You! How does it feel, knowing I killed your wife, I made your son my bitch! You took everything from me. I just repaid the favor.”

Another crack and a spray of blood all over Dean was the response.

“Sadistic bastard always did love the sound of his own voice. Talked too much to actually pay attention. Now he can rot in Hell.” John’s deep voice was calm, giving no indication that he’d just killed a man, let alone the man he’d hunted for twenty-two years. 

Dean collapsed against Cas and tumbled to the floor. Spots...he could see spots. And he was floating, dreamy, soaring away from the cold, the pain, the anguish. He could barely hear a voice calling him back.  _ Stay with me _ , the voice said, pleading.  _ Please, don’t leave me. _ It was a nice thought, but the darkness was coming, comforting. His last thought before the blackness took over was a simple one. 

How did Castiel know his father?

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Castiel was completely out of his element. Dean leaving the gallery suddenly, and obviously in a drop, had him more scared than he’d ever been. All sorts of scenarios were flying through his head. Then the bomb dropped. John Winchester showing up on his doorstep was completely out of left field. The man was supposed to be dead. Not only that, but he barged in, telling Castiel that his boyfriend had been taken by the sadistic asshole that had tortured him,  _ again _ ...Castiel’s heart dropped. In that moment, he realized his true feelings for Dean. It had been only a few months, but he could no longer deny that he was in love with the man, and that he would go to the ends of the Earth to protect him.

Most people say that you know you’re in love if your heart races when you’re in their presence, you get excited and anxious to see them, that kind of stuff. Castiel felt different. The thought of Dean relaxed him, and when he was in the same room as Dean, he felt like he’d come home. Seeing Dean hanging by his wrists, naked, beaten and bleeding from multiple open wounds all over his body… Castiel had never felt so sad and scared and horrified and angry. He wasn’t used to intense emotions like that and was having a difficult time processing the events of the evening. 

That was probably the main reason he went willingly with John Winchester. He was dazed and confused, and only heard parts of the story John was telling him. A voice in his head scolded him for not listening more closely—this was part of Dean’s history, after all—but he had a hundred different trains of thought in his head, all clamoring for attention.

He finally got himself together enough to ask questions. They were mostly logistical, such as why the hell was he taking Castiel, who was wholly unqualified for this type of situation, to try and stop a psychopath. Wouldn’t he rather have police, or at least some of his former unit members? When John explained that Dean trusted Castiel and would go with him, that he would never go with John, Castiel felt warm at the thought that Dean trusted him so much that people on the outside looking in could see it. He also felt a bit creeped out because this stranger had essentially been stalking both of them for months. Then again, so had Alastair, apparently. God, it was just so much to take in. 

When they finally made it to the abandoned building, Castiel pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call Victor. He’s a detective in Chicago. He can find the nearest police force and send help.”

John hmpf’d in acknowledgement and said, “I’m going to have a look around. You wait ten minutes, then go in that side door over there. You can call that Victor person just before you leave the car. Give me a little bit of time.” John left the car with little fanfare and disappeared into the night. Castiel had texted  _ Found Dean. My GPS is on, track me. Send help _ , took a deep breath, and left the truck.

He almost lost his lunch when Dean came into view. He could not contain the little sob at the back of his throat at the sight of his wonderful, kind, beautiful sub tied up by someone else, wounds on practically every part of his body. Waiting until he was alone, Castiel ran over to Dean and started removing the chains. 

Dean was in shock, barely able to hold his head up, and there was a frighteningly large puddle of blood underneath him. Dean tried to talk, but his words slurred and barely coherent. Castiel answered his questions distractedly. This was not the place for conversation. They needed to get back to John’s truck now.

Alastair was the single most terrifying man Castiel had ever seen. John Winchester was pretty damned scary, but this man… Suddenly, Castiel kind of hoped that the police were delayed, and would not feel any remorse for his part in Alastair’s death—and there was no doubt in Castiel’s mind that Alastair would not live to see the sun rise. 

As predicted, Alastair’s death was singularly grotesque. The knees, the head. Those images would haunt him for a long time to come, right along with the feeling of blood spraying across his face. He’d almost lost it then, too, but he forced himself to slip into Dom mode, wrapping himself around Dean and comforting him as much as possible.

For the majority of Doms that Castiel had met, the Dominance was ingrained in their personality and came out in everyday interactions. Leaning more to the switch side of things, it was more of a mindset that he had to get into. In that situation, there on the floor of an abandoned warehouse, the Dom headspace allowed him to have better control over his emotions and to focus on Dean’s needs.

He learned later that Victor had called in a favor to the state police and caught a ride on a helicopter with the head of the Operations Division. Apparently, Alastair Rolston was a high value capture. There would be an investigation. From everything Castiel knew and what the cops and paramedics found, justifiable homicide was tossed around. The state police didn’t even arrest the elder Winchester. They took him in for questioning, which took all night. That actually turned out to be a good thing, since Castiel had called Sam in the ambulance on the way to Saint James Hospital in Pontiac. He absolutely hated having to make that phone call, knowing the anguish Sam had felt the first time Dean went missing. He could not begin to fathom what Sam was going through right now.

Gabe had driven Sam to the hospital, but they’d arrived while Dean was still in surgery. Castiel had told the staff he was Dean’s partner, just so they would give him at least some information. As soon as Sam burst into the waiting room he demanded to see Dean.

“Sam, you can’t,” Castiel said, holding Sam back. “Not right now, anyway. He’s in surgery. From what I’ve been told, it could be awhile,” Castiel tried to explain. Sam barreled right over him.

“What the fuck happened, Cas? Why wasn’t Dean with you? I thought he went to your place. Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening again.” He ran his hands through his hair, tugging it in his distress.

Gabe used mild humor and an oddly soothing tone to get Sam calm enough for Castiel to tell them what happened. He told him about the drop, Dean leaving, and Castiel getting Charlie involved to find Dean. Castiel braced himself to tell Sam about John, knowing from his discussions with Dean that Sam held no love for their father. 

Castiel was not disappointed. Sam raged and roared, blaming John for all of it. When he found out about the relationship between Alastair and John, well… Sam had to step outside and take a moment. Castiel was grateful that Gabe took it upon himself to follow and make sure Sam was not alone.

A few hours later, a doctor came out and told them the extent of Dean’s injuries. Three broken ribs, a fractured jaw, a pretty significant concussion, and over one hundred lacerations and punctures, big and small, that required varying levels of surgical intervention. Two blood transfusions and three hundred some-odd stitches later, Dean was in intensive care. The blood loss might have damaged his kidneys, but it would likely resolve with time. All in all, Dean would survive. Sam and Castiel shared a look, knowing the psychological damage was still immeasurable.

They waited for hours by Dean’s bed. Castiel wouldn’t leave, and Sam continually paced the room, annoying the crap out of the staff until they made him go grab a cup of coffee or something. Anything to get him off the ward. 

Castiel heard a commotion several minutes later and left the room to investigate. He found Sam next to the coffee machine, raging and yelling at John. Eleven years of abandonment heaped on top of twelve years of a craptastic childhood made Sam very bitter, and it was all trying to get through at the same time. 

Castiel got between them, telling Sam to go stay with Dean. Sam glared at his father, then turned and walked away.

“John, how are you?” Castiel asked, at a loss for what to really say.

“Well, I just spent four hours being interrogated by the state police, but your pal Henricksen is good people. How’s my boy doing?” John asked.

Castiel gave John a brief update on Dean’s condition. “You should go, though. Dean’s still out and from what the doctors say, he will be for awhile. I don’t see Sam changing his mind anytime soon,” he finished.

“Yeah, you’re right,” John said, wiping his hand down his face in a very familiar gesture of stress.

“I promise, John,” Castiel said, “I’ll let you know when he wakes up. Just give me your number, okay?”

“Sure, yeah,” John sighed, giving Castiel his information. He stiffened, watching Sam walk toward them. John said he’d be staying at a motel locally and left, after handing the keys to the Impala to Castiel. Apparently, he’d arranged for it to be towed to Bobby’s for repair.

Sam appeared surprised by the gesture, and possibly softened a little bit. That also may have been in Castiel’s imagination, especially since he still looked ready to punch his father into next week.

Upon returning to the room, Castiel noticed that Dean was starting to come around. As awareness took hold, Dean started flailing and clawing at the tube down his throat. Castiel and Sam each held an arm to restrain him. Sam pushed the nurse call button while Castiel talked to him. Castiel didn’t know any other way to calm Dean but to use his Dom voice. 

Sam watched Castiel calm Dean, who was still mostly unconscious, mouth agape, as the nurses came in with the doctor in tow. 

“Well, looks like we’re starting to come around,” the doctor said cheerfully, before checking on Dean. The doctor determined that Dean was breathing on his own and could have the tube removed, but because of the anxiety displayed, he felt it would be best for Dean to remain sedated for awhile.

Shortly after Dean was sedated, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and Charlie showed up. They convinced Castiel and Sam to at least go to the cafeteria and eat something. Both men were shell-shocked and wandered through the wide hallways of the hospital in a daze, happening upon the cafeteria by accident. Both got coffee and a sandwich, despite not being hungry.

When they were sitting at a table, the dam finally broke on Sam’s patience. “Tell me what happened, Cas. Last I knew, Dean left the gallery without telling anyone and you were going back to your place to see if he was okay. Fast forward 5 hours and you’re calling me telling me Dean is in the hospital after being tortured by Alastair. Again,” he said angrily. “Not only that,” he continued, the hard edge to his voice resounding, “I get here to find my father, the man who walked out on us when I was eleven years old, without a word, loitering around the waiting room. So,” he said, fidgeting with his coffee cup, “I repeat my question. What the fuck is going on?” Yesterday, Castiel would have shriveled up into a ball under the venomous glare Sam shot his way. But that was before surviving Alastair. Today, it was merely another facial expression.

“Well, the short version is that Dean dropped badly and I didn’t notice it. I failed Dean. Especially in light of what happened last night,” he said rather sheepishly. “Or, rather, two nights ago,” he revised, since it had become morning again. Sam raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to say something, but Castiel just continued. “Cain told me the security system had been tampered with and one of the employees in the kitchen had been knocked out. In other words, Dean really did see Alastair last night. And again at the opening. It was all a trap. The security we set up didn’t help. And I didn’t protect Dean,” he said, dropping his head onto his arms on the table. 

“Hey,” Sam said gently, laying a comforting hand on Castiel’s shoulder, “it’s not your fault, okay? I didn’t see the drop either, and I’ve seen it before. Fuck, I just can’t believe it happened again. What I don’t understand, though, is how my dad ended up there.” His voice was softer, with less of an edge.

“He showed up at my loft just as I was leaving to go after Dean. He said he needed my help to get Dean back, that he’d been taken,” Castiel explained. He was exhausted and quickly running out of steam. The coffee was helping only so much.

“No offense, but why the hell would he go to you? How did he even know you?” Sam asked, confused.

“Apparently Alastair has been stalking Dean for years, waiting for John to show up. John was also watching Dean, waiting for Alastair to show himself. As such, they were watching me as well,” Castiel said peevishly.

“Wow, that ups the creep factor on the whole situation.”

“Yeah, it’s not every day one finds out they’ve been stalked by a psychopath  _ and _ a former special forces marine who, by the way, is supposed to be dead,” Castiel said, irked at the thought of his privacy being invaded in such a manner. “Now I completely understand Dean’s tendency toward paranoia and intense personal security.”

“Yeah, I thought he was going overboard for a long time, too,” Sam agreed, “but now I see it was deserved. How was Dad involved with Alastair?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like Dean to tell you. It’s his story, really,” Castiel stalled, not wanting to bear the brunt of Sam’s ire when he found out the whole situation.

“Look, I can understand the position I’m putting you in, but I really need to know what I’m walking into with Dean’s mental state,” Sam said pointedly.

“When you put it like that… Your dad protected Alastair in Afghanistan. He was an interrogator and let’s just say he should have been tried for war crimes. Your dad reported him, he was court martialed, got released early,” Castiel rushed through, as if to rip off the band aid, so to speak, “hunted down your father and set fire to your house,” Sam’s face darkened, “killing your mother. John took you guys off-grid, then left you with Bobby to protect you.” Maybe if Castiel chose those words, Sam might one day forgive his father. “He went hunting for Alastair. Alastair used Dean to get to John. He even—” Castiel paused, uncomfortable with his role in the whole thing, unwitting as it may have been, “—somehow he arranged for the article that brought me to Dean in the first place.” 

“Cas, this is not your fault. You didn’t know. Bright side, you two are awesome together,” Sam comforted. “You know Dean’s in love with you, right? I’ve never seen him so happy before.” He smiled warmly, lifting Castiel’s spirits a fraction.

“Well, the feeling is mutual, I assure you. There is nothing I would not do for Dean. Including a Mission Impossible rescue...mission,” he finished awkwardly. 

Sam huffed good naturedly at that and finally tucked into his sandwich. Castiel followed suit and they ate in silence before going back upstairs to Dean’s room.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Dean is eventually awake enough to be told everything that happened, and the state police came to interview him about his ordeal. The state investigator, Jodie Mills, was confident that no charges would be filed against John. Alastair had been wanted in three states for attempted murder and a slew of assaults, not to mention being suspected of two other murders. Dean wasn’t the only one he tortured, apparently.

A few days after he woke up, Dean asked to see his father. Sam refused to let John anywhere Dean, however, citing that he was the root of all their childhood strife, including losing their mother.

“Sammy,” Dean said, exasperated with the continual argument. “I need to see him. I need to ask him why. I need to ask him… Forget it,” he shook his head slowly. “Look, I just need to see him, okay?” Dean pleaded with his baby brother.

“Dean, no. Hasn’t he caused enough problems? You were tortured, for God’s sake. TWICE!” Sam’s yelling was really grating on Dean’s headache, which hadn’t let up since he woke up.

“I have to see him, Sammy. If you can’t accept that, then I need you to leave,” he said, matter of factly. “Go back to the motel. Go to lunch with Gabriel. I don’t care. But this is something I have to do.” He crossed his arms and glared at Sam in the ‘big brother has spoken’ way he’d developed years ago.

“Fine,” Sam groused. “Call me when he’s gone,” and he stormed out the door.

Cas had never left his side through the argument, but had remained silent, not interfering. “Would you like me to call John now, Dean?” he asked gently, stroking his thumb across the back of Dean’s hand absentmindedly.

“Yeah, Cas, thanks,” Dean replied, giving Cas a small smile.

Later, when John showed up, Castiel left the room. Dean knew he was just outside, though, because they’d talked about it earlier. Dean did not want to be away from Cas for very long.

“Dean,” John started as he walked in the door, “it’s good to see you, son.” He stood just inside the door, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“D-Dad,” Dean stumbled, the word practically foreign on his tongue. Dean couldn’t make eye contact. So many years later, and Dean still felt ten years old in the presence of his father.

“Dean,” John said, pained, “I’m so sorry. For this, for all of it. It’s all my fault.” He took a few steps toward Dean, then stopped. 

“It’s okay, Dad, you can come sit down. I don’t mind. It’s better than watch you dance back and forth, anyway.”

John gave Dean a small smile and took the chair next to Dean’s bed. “I don’t even know where to start, son. I’m not gonna ask forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it. I just… I don’t know what to say.” He looked down to his hands that were folded in his lap.

Dean took a deep breath before he started. He may grumble and complain about the sharing and caring thing, but he did—reluctantly—admit that it did help. Besides, he wouldn’t get any answers

“Where have you been?” Dean asked quietly, accusingly.

“Dean, I—”

“No, Dad, no excuses, no lies. You owe me the truth. Where have you been,” Dean repeated.

John sighed deeply. “You’re right. I, ah, yeah. No excuses. You already know the main details. I turned the bastard in for torturing POWs. He didn’t like it. Turned it into a blood vendetta. After...your mom, I couldn’t let anything happen to you boys. So we ran. I kept us off the grid for as long as I could. Eventually, though, Alastair got close, and I couldn’t keep dragging you boys from one coast to the other and back again. I had to lure him away.” He paused, and Dean had to admit that he sounded very remorseful. “So, I dropped you off at Bobby’s. I knew he’d take care of you like his own, and he’d do right by you more than I could. I’ve kept an eye on you, though. I couldn’t be more proud of you two.” John looked at Dean with misty eyes.

“Yeah, well you can take your parental pride and shove it. You don’t deserve that,” Dean choked out, rage boiling to the surface. “You have no idea,  _ no _ idea, what Sammy and I went through. Did you know that I blamed myself for you leaving? That I’ve hated myself for the last eleven years thinking I drove you away.” The pain and anguish Dean felt was as fresh as the day it happened. 

“What on Earth made you think that?” John asked, incredulous.

Dean gritted his teeth before answering. “That day, the day you left, it was the first day of high school. I was waiting for you to pick me up. I… I thought you saw me making out with Aaron,” he said quietly. “I thought you left because of me, because of that.” Dean released a strangled sob when the weight of that confession lifted.

“Oh, God,” John whispered to himself. He closed his eyes and a single tear fell. Opening his eyes, he leaned closer to Dean and reached for his son’s hand. “Dean, son, that doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care who you love, as long as you’re happy. Seeing you boys, the men you’ve become. I love you, everything you are and everything you’ve become.” John was openly crying now, which set Dean off, too. Must have been the pain meds that made him emotional.

When Dean couldn’t respond to that, John continued. “I’ve seen you with Castiel. It’s obvious how much he loves you. I’m grateful that you’ve found someone to love and who loves you. And I know he’ll take care of you. The little amount of time I spent with him clued me in to the fact that he’s head over heels for you.”

“Wait, you’ve been watching me ‘n Cas? When? Where?” he asked, getting paranoid again.

“The first time I saw you together was when you met. I saw you at The Roadhouse. After that, The Velvet Underground,” he said as Dean groaned in embarrassment. “Relax, son, I don’t care about that, either. Everybody’s got their thing. Hey, Mary liked a bit of spanking every now and then.”

“Aaaaand that’s the end of this conversation!” Dean said, incredibly uncomfortable. John laughed. “Seriously, though. You leaving really did a number on us, leaving the way you did. We both got issues up the ass. We’re not going to get over it over night. Sam, he may never get past it. Just so you know. But,” he paused, contemplating, “I’m-I’m willing to try.”

“That’s,” John stalled, choked up. “That’s great, Dean. I know I don’t deserve it, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean replied, warily, “let’s just take it one day at a time, ‘kay?”

“Sure, Dean, whatever you want. Tell you what. Castiel has my number. Call me sometime, yeah?” John looked so hopeful it tugged at Dean’s heart.

“Yeah, Dad, that sounds good.” When John turned around to leave, Dean grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Thanks, Dad. For coming to get me.” Before he could think better of it, he pulled his dad in for a hug. As much as he’d hated the man, having an explanation went a long way toward healing the rift. When they pulled apart, there was a shared meaningful look between them, then John turned around and left.

Dean took a deep, steadying breath. Wow. That just happened. His father was alive. More than that, he’d rescued Dean from the devil. It was a lot to take in.

After a few minutes, Cas came back. Dean smiled warmly at him as he walked up, held Dean’s face in his hands, and kissed him squarely on the lips. Dean closed his eyes and sighed. 

“How are you doing, my love?” Castiel asked gently, settling his forehead against Dean’s.

“Better, now that you’re here,” Dean murmured, blushing at the new term of endearment. They’d declared their love for each other within hours of Dean waking up, and Dean basked in the openness of it all, for once letting himself have something good, just for him. 

“I thought I’d lost you, Dean. I was so scared. When your dad showed up, I didn’t know what to think.” 

Dean grabbed Cas by the back of the neck, holding him in place. “I’m right here, Cas, I’m safe. You saved me, okay? I’m right here.” They sat like that, just breathing each other in, for a long time. Finally, Dean pulled away from Cas and, with a wink and a smirk, said, “Just so you know, you were totally badass. Running across the warehouse, trenchcoat flappin’ behind you. Totally hot mix of the Doctor meets Constantine.”

Castiel laughed out loud and kissed Dean again. Dean scooted over as much as he comfortably could so Cas had room. They snuggled until Dean fell asleep, feeling that he was just where he should be. Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue will be coming in the next day or so, including the last awesome piece of art from Andro.


	21. Chapter 21 Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lord this took me forever! I am so sorry for the wait and am grateful for everyone's patience. Life just...blew up a wee bit with moving and all that.

_One Year Later_

“Dean, are you almost finished?” Cas’ voice came from the speaker on the wall.

 _Shit_. Dean looked up at the clock on the wall. Four o’clock. He had totally lost track of time. “Um, yeah! Just give me ten minutes to shut everything off!” Dean answered, scrambling to turn off the machinery and tidy up.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a little bit. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Cas. See you in a few!” he said, rushing to get out of his safety gear and lock his studio.

Dean had moved in with Castiel three months ago, buying the empty first floor space for his workshop. His artwork had taken off after the article, but ever since the news story broke of his kidnapping and torture, his popularity had actually skyrocketed. He hated it, hated people knowing his business, but he wasn’t going to turn away good work. He still restored classic cars for Bobby on the side, too, but he’d become a full-time artist months ago.

Dean took the stairs two by two, arriving at his floor breathless. He burst in the front door, yelling, “Honey, I’m home!” He started stripping as he made his way toward the bedroom, not waiting for Cas to show his face, and hopped in the shower to wash the grime off. Tonight was a big night, after all. He took his time cleaning himself thoroughly and prepping himself. He smiled as he placed the plug that Cas had left him. It was stainless steel with a sapphire colored jewel on the end. Cas was always thinking ahead and taking care of him. Dean was finally okay with allowing him to do it.

When he got out of the shower, he massaged burn cream and vitamin E oil into his scars. They were the only visible reminder left of his ordeal. He’d had to go through some intense physical therapy to regain full mobility. Being hung from his hands had done a number on his shoulders and surgery on over a hundred lacerations made for a lot of scar tissue. Skin grafts helped with the worst of those, but he’d had difficulty working with metal for awhile. Missouri helped with the rest, until he moved to Chicago. She’d offered to do the phone thing, but Pam took over and she was very good for Dean. Being a sub, she understood where Dean was coming from and the world he lived in. The snark helped, too.

He found a set of clothes waiting for him when he got to the bedroom, but still no sign of Castiel. Following the implied order, he got dressed, including the rope collar that had become like an extension of himself. Checking himself in the mirror one last time, he made his way to the living room, expecting to find his Dom. Instead, he found Pamela lounging in the overstuffed easy chair, texting on her phone.

“Heya, sweet cheeks, you ready for your big night?” Pam asked, shit eating grin lighting up her whole face. She was definitely a welcome sight, but he was confused as to why she was there at all, until he remembered that she was supposed to be his attendant. Pft. Half of him felt like a bride with a bridesmaid, the other half was relieved to have the sub there. She’d been through this before, both as an observer and a participant. “Cas went to make sure everything was copacetic at the club, so he wanted me to make sure you got there in one piece and keep you from tying yourself completely into knots. Speaking of which, how are you feeling?”

“We gonna do the sharing and caring thing right now?” he asked, mildly touchy. The single most hated phrase he heard on a regular basis was _‘how do you feel?’_. His nerves were beginning to set in. He knew he wanted this, to commit fully to Cas and submit fully to him, but commitment was a huge thing. For the longest time he’d stayed away from relationships that might lead down this road. Watching his father fall completely apart after his mother died was…formative. He never wanted someone to have that kind of control over his happiness.

Meeting Cas, though, changed all that. For the first time ever, he saw himself having a true future with someone. More than that, _wanting_ a future with someone. The thought settled him a little, so he swallowed down his anxiety and nodded once to Pam.

“Good job, sugar, you ready to go?” Pam asked, cheerfully.

“Yeah, Pam, I’m ready.” He sighed with the weight of the double meaning and grabbed his jacket, following her out the door. He was surprised when they reached the parking garage and Pam tossed him the keys to the Impala.

“Castiel thought you’d be more relaxed if you drove your car to the club instead of being subjected to anyone else’s driving,” Pam said in response to his confused, surprised look, obviously amused.

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” Dean mused, pleased that his Dom knew him so well. He relaxed even more as he slid behind the wheel, letting the rumble of her engine and the smooth butter feel of her leather fill his senses.

They talked about the ceremony on the way to the club. Dean and Cas had gone over everything that would happen many times, had planned it together meticulously. Repeating over everything with Pam, though, helped keep him calm. It gave him a sense of control, which made him snort a little at the irony.

The idea on whether or not to have the ceremony in the first place had brought about a few heated discussions. Dean surprised himself by bringing it up first after Pam had asked him if they were going to do it. Castiel expressed mixed feelings at first. He was thrilled at the suggestion of the ceremony itself; in fact, he got misty-eyed. But Dean wanted to have it at the club, with their community surrounding them, and celebrate after with Cas suspending Dean publicly. Cas wasn’t sure they were ready. The first time they tried tying Dean up after he recovered, Cas freaked out. He dropped pretty hard, thinking he was a horrible person and Dom for wanting to tie Dean after the sub had had such a traumatic experience with restraint. Dean was fine that time, but the next time they attempted it, Dean safeworded. Both were rattled after that one, severely remembering the last time Dean had done that.

Dean finally convinced Cas that he was ready after they’d tried a few minimalistic ties in the bedroom successfully. So they waited and planned carefully, waiting a for a full year to pass after Alastair.

As Dean and Pam got to the club, Uriel greeted them warmly and escorted them to the submissives’ dressing room. They got undressed, Dean down to his forest green lace boy shorts, and Pam in a sheer pink babydoll. Pam smiled at Dean, took his hand, and led him out to the main club area.

There were rows of chairs set up, with an aisle down the center. At the head of the aisle was the stage where exhibitions took place. All the props and equipment were still there; it was a kink club, after all, and they did not hide who they were, especially in their own place.

They approached the stage together, still holding hands. Dean appreciated the contact, the comfort, even if he’d never admit it aloud. He walked forward as trepidation and excitement swirled together in his gut. The anticipation heightened his senses, making every smell and sound seem more intense.

The moment he saw Cas the rest of the world melted away. Cas stood there, next to Cain, looking stunning in black suit pants with a deep blue button down shirt, black silk tie, and black pinstripe waistcoat. The scruff gracing his cheeks and jawline had Dean licking his lips in anticipation. He remembered the last time Cas let his scruff grow like that. He had beard burn on and around his hole for a week. It was glorious and made his cock twitch.

Cas was smiling at him, making him feel, as usual, like he was the only person in the room. Like Cas’ world revolved around him. It made Dean feel protected and loved, and it was on display for their whole world. He reveled in belonging to this man, of swimming in his adoration.

Pam led him up onto the stage, in front of Cas, hugged Dean, then put their hands together. She smiled warmly at them both, then turned around to take her place at Victor’s feet, across from Cas. Cain was officiating the ceremony and also vouching for Cas as an upstanding Dom worthy of a committed sub. Victor was standing for Dean, as a representative of Pam. She was vouching that Dean was prepared for the role of a committed sub and was going into this with eyes open and able to fully consent to the proceedings.

“Castiel, Dean, it’s good to see you two here this evening. I am honored to officiate your collaring ceremony and host the festivities. Presenting a collar to a submissive is a significant step in a Dominant/submissive relationship. It represents a commitment on both sides, a commitment to take care of each other and to abide by the rules that define your roles, set forth when you agreed to enter into this dynamic. I have known Castiel for five years now, and know him to be of sound moral character. More than that, he is a kind, caring person and a well-respected Dom.

“Castiel, are you here today of your own volition?” Cain asked, turning to face Cas.

“Yes, I am,” Cas answered solemnly.

“Dean, are you here today of your own volition?” Cain asked, this time turning toward Dean.

“Yes, Sir, I am,” Dean replied. Cain smiled warmly at the honorific and, despite Cain not being his Dom, the smile felt like praise, giving Dean a boost of confidence.

“Wonderful. Castiel, you indicated that you both wrote your own vows.” Cas nodded in assent. “You may begin.”

“Dean, it is my intention to offer you my collar as a sign of your submission to me. Are you willing to accept my collar?” Cas asked, with nothing but love in his eyes.

“Nothing would make me happier, Sir,” Dean replied, face hurting from smiling so wide. He was excited to see what the collar looked like. Cas had asked him things he liked and didn’t like about various collar styles, then he’d custom ordered one. The final design was to be a surprise.

Castiel reached behind him to a small table and grabbed a fluffy black pillow, placing it at Dean’s feet. Dean immediately kneeled on the pillow, placing his hands on his thighs. Cas turned back to the table and opened the handmade cherry box engraved with a shibari knot. He held the collar reverently as he turned to Dean. The sub’s breath caught when he saw the beautiful piece of art before him. It was a soft black leather, about an inch and a half wide, with a sapphire blue leather strip stitched on top of the black. It was lined with soft fur, again sapphire blue. A brushed black D-ring was attached at the throat, and instead of inset jewel-type adornments, monkey’s fist knots were engraved into the blue leather.

Cas held the collar out in front of him while he spoke his vows. “With the placing of this collar around your neck and your acceptance of it, I vow to do everything I can to be worthy of you. I promise to hold you and keep you safe, to stretch you and give you flight, to respect the needs of our relationship above all others, to love you, honor you, support you in all things and be sensitive to your needs and desires. I acknowledge the trust you have placed in me and the responsibility that goes with my acceptance of that trust. I will never violate or even threaten to violate that trust. I acknowledge and accept with all my heart the gift of submission you have given to me. This collar will be a symbol of that which we already know: that you are mine, and by wearing it you will always be safe to be everything that you are.

“Do you accept my collar in the spirit by which it is given to you?”

Looking up at Cas, his heart filled with love and devotion, Dean replied with his own vows. “Sir, of my own free will and with clarity of mind and heart, I submit myself to your will. I accept your collar as the outward and visible sign of my deepest joy—that I am yours. I fully place my trust in you to protect me, love me, and guide me on the right path.” Dean’s voice had been wavering, but at those words it broke. He swallowed hard and continued. “I trust that you will bring me back from the edge when I get lost in my head, and that you will do nothing that I have not agreed to. I place my heart, mind, body and soul into your hands. I promise to stay with you, support you, and fulfill your desires and needs as you allow. I give myself to you, now and always.” Dean had never spoken so much at one time in the way of emotions in his life, and for once it didn’t bother him. He hadn’t been sure that he could do it, that he could find the words, but Pam had helped him with some directed questions during a therapy session. The words came surprisingly easy once the dam broke.

Cas gently placed the collar around Dean’s neck, fingers lingering on the warm skin. Dean bowed his head down so Cas could easily reach the buckle in the back. As his hands came back around, Cas caressed one hand along Dean’s cheek. The sub leaned into the touch and hummed in pleasure and contentment.

Cas smiled down at him, unspilled tears gathering in his eyes, and finished his vow. “I will never forget nor shy away from the responsibility I have undertaken here, nor will I abuse that power. I am charged with your well-being in all you do.” Cas was openly crying at this point, and Dean was having a hard time not joining him. “I promise to learn from you what is good and safe for you and always keep that in mind. The hand of the Dominant is a double-edged sword; it can give great pleasure and it can punish. I will carefully consider every situation before using that power, and will never use it in anger.”

Cas held Dean’s face with both hands and guided him to stand. Eyes never wavering from Dean’s, he finished with, “Thank you for giving me the gift of your submission, Dean.” He leaned in and kissed Dean, softly and sweetly.

Those in attendance broke out into thunderous applause and whooped and whistled, celebrating with the couple. A few people in the front row threw blue confetti on them. Both laughed hysterically when they saw the confetti was penis-shaped.

Pam came up and hugged Dean, while Victor and Cain congratulated Cas. Now that he was collared, it was obvious that the Doms present congratulated Cas first, before asking permission to approach Dean. He had never felt so welcome, so appreciated, and so free to be himself. Nobody was teasing him about wearing lace panties, no one was giving him dirty looks for being on his knees, no one was judging him for letting his freak flag fly. He had found a community to belong to, finally, and they welcomed him with open arms.

They milled around for awhile, mingling and talking with people. Well, Cas talked and Dean stood respectfully one step over and one step back from his Dom, always silent unless asked a direct question and always with his head slightly bowed and eyes to the floor. He really was trying to be a good sub, one worthy of representing Castiel. He understood fully that everything he said and did within the community was a reflection of his Dom and after everything Cas and this community had done for him, he wasn’t about to screw that up.

About 8:30 p.m., Cas turned to Dean and said, “There are some clothes laid out for you in the sub dressing room. Please take Pam with you and go get dressed, then come back to me.” He kissed Dean chastely, pressing their foreheads together for a moment.

Dean looked at Cas, heart swelling once again. “I will always come back to you, Sir,” he murmured into Cas’ lips. He turned to find Pam behind him, waiting with her hand outstretched. He took it in his own and allowed her to lead him away. He was grateful once again for the contact of a familiar soul.

There was a velvet-covered bench with a set of clothes laid out carefully. Dean was too happy and content with life at the moment to argue with anything, let alone allowing Pam to dress him. Before he knew it, he was dressed in cotton drawstring pants and a simple button-down tunic, also black.

“Are you ready for this?” Pam asked, doing up the last button. The shirt was loose fitting and displayed his collar well.

Dean took a deep, cleansing breath in before replying, “Yeah, I’m ready. Listen,” he said, halting Pam with a hand on her arm, “thank you. For everything.”

Pam got serious for a moment, well, as serious as Pam could get. “Sure thing, sugar. You’re one of the good ones, Dean Winchester. It’s about time things went your way. I’m happy to play even a small part in that.” She tapped his cheek with her fingers, then kissed his cheek. “Come on, loverboy, your Dom is waiting.”

Pam led Dean out of the dressing room and over to Cas, dressed similarly in simple black cotton, in silence. Stopping in front of Cas and Victor, she gently pushed Dean to walk up to Cas, then took her place by Victor’s side and knelt on the floor, head down and hands on her thighs respectfully.

Dean took her subtle cue and, after holding Cas’ gaze briefly, lowered his eyes and echoed Pam, settling on the floor in front of his Dom.

He leaned into the touch as Cas threaded his fingers gently through Dean's hair. The loving caress grounded Dean, quelling the tide of nerves threatening to take hold. The whole evening was one first after another, interspersed with attempts to try something that had previously caused fear and panic. His body tried to remind him of the suffocating feelings that plagued his nightmares, but he resolutely refused to give in. He closed his eyes, centering himself, and breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. Cas must have recognized the relaxation breathing routine Pam had taught Dean, so he placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and waited.

When Dean felt the last vestiges of tension leaving his body, he opened his eyes and looked up at his Dom with reverence. Cas smiled in reply and said firmly, “Follow me,” before turning around and walking away. He never turned around to see if Dean was following, it was just expected.

Dean followed his Dom down the hallway to one of the private rooms. He watched as Cas took a key out of his pocket, unlocked the door and pushed it open. Curiosity took hold as he stepped up to Cas, peering in. This was not the room they’d used before; it was appointed completely differently from Cain’s. There was a king size four-poster bed—sturdy enough for some vigorous fucking and good bondage, he was pleased to note—with beautiful rope accents, several bureaus in matching wood, and an _en suite_ bathroom.

Cas held out his hand to Dean and led him into the center of the room, the door closing with an unassuming _snick_ behind them. Dean was swung around by his hand and found himself ensconced in his Dom’s arms. He melted into the embrace, sticking his nose behind Cas’ ear and just breathing, taking in the scent of his Dom, of home, of _Cas_.

“God, I love you, Dean. I can’t even imagine what my life would be without you,” Cas murmured into Dean’s neck, wrapping both arms securely around his sub, savoring their closeness.

“I love you, too, Cas,” Dean said, swallowing hard around the emotions that filled him that evening. “I absolutely know what my life would be like without you, and I don’t like it one bit.” He held on tighter, not willing to let the moment go. Allowing himself to feel and acknowledge those emotions was one of the things he was working on with Pam. These moments alone with Cas were the only ones where it wasn’t a struggle to just let go.

Eventually, though, the embrace had to end. There were things to do, after all, and people who were waiting for a show. Cas pulled back and, with one last kiss, drew Dean to the center of the room. He spun Dean around, plastering himself against Dean’s back and nosing at his neck.

“Do you know how beautiful you are, my love?” Cas asked quietly, the words ghosting past Dean’s ear. He sucked in a quick hiss of air as Cas’ fingers crept up under his shirt and traced delicate patterns along the muscles of his lower abdomen, skirting his hips, skating over his new scars lovingly, and up to his nipples. Dean’s skin hummed and tingled in the wake of his Dom’s touch, making him feel alive in ways nothing else could. A harsh intake of air followed Dean’s nipples being pinched roughly. Mmm, he _loved_ his nipples being pinched.

Cas continued to rub his hands lightly over Dean’s torso, whispering praise and encouragements all the while. Cas slowly unbuttoned Dean’s shirt and let it slide down Dean’s arms, falling in a pile on the floor. Dean’s breath hitched when Cas’ hand roughly settled over his mostly hard cock. The change in intention was a stark contrast that heightened Dean’s senses.

Dean’s breath quickened when Cas snuck his hand under Dean’s waistband. As Cas started lazily stroking Dean’s cock, the sub let his head fall back to rest on his Dom’s shoulder. Light nibbles and kitten licks grazed Dean’s neck, words of filth and love following in their wake.

“Mmm, I can’t wait to wrap you in rope, see you swinging on my dick. I want to show everyone who you belong to, how beautiful you are.” Dean squirmed at the words; they were still difficult to hear, to believe, but he was able to force himself to listen. Progress, baby steps. “Your skin always looks so amazing with my marks. I want to see them for weeks this time.” All the while, Cas’ hand traveled up and down the length of Dean’s erection, squeezing as if to emphasize such words as ‘beautiful’, and ‘amazing’, ensuring that with every utterance Dean would associate intense physical pleasure with those words.

A fire began coiling its way around Dean’s groin, causing him to pant and moan Cas’ name. When he grabbed hold of both his Dom’s biceps, anchoring himself, Cas whispered in his ear, “Don’t forget, princess, you must ask permission.”

“I remember, Sir,” Dean responded, his voice thick and rough, mostly out of ingrained habit.

The longer Cas stroked Dean’s dick, still with long slow passes, the closer Dean got to coming and the more breathless he became. He tried to hold on as long as he could, to drag it out, but he finally had to give in and ask.

“Please, Sir, may I come?” he begged, voice barely above a whisper.

“Such a good boy for asking,” Cas replied softly against his ear, “but not just yet. We have a show to give, don’t we?” Dean knew Cas wasn’t looking for an answer, but he did whine at the loss of the hand stroking him. The fire slowly receded and his breathing began to return to normal. He was still hard as a rock, but now he could be more patient.

Cas gently tucked Dean back into his pants and kissed his neck. “Come, my beautiful kitten. Shall we tie you up? Hmm? Would you like that?” he asked teasingly.

“Fuck yes, Sir, please.”

“Then come with me,” Cas replied, leading Dean from the room. They walked together, holding hands, to the rope exhibition room Dean was so familiar with.

Dean surveyed the room with a wary eye, briefly flashing back to the last time he was tied in here. Shaking the feeling off, he followed his Dom down to the stage and allowed himself to be pushed into a kneeling position on a tatami mat. He put his hands on his thighs and lowered his head out of simple muscle memory. He concentrated on his breathing, centering himself with the exercises Pam taught him. He could hear the murmurs of people as they entered the room, but it was in the background, white noise.

Finally, he felt fingers running through his hair gently. Leaning into the touch, he let out a quiet moan of appreciation. He loved it when Cas touched him like this. Like he was precious, worthy of comfort and love. He always soaked up all he could, a small part of his psyche telling him it wouldn’t last. That part was getting smaller and smaller as the days went on, but again, work in progress.

Opening his eyes was a chore, but he was rewarded for his efforts by the sight of the most beautiful blue eyes he’s ever seen. Dean could get lost in those forever. He used the comforting sight to anchor himself, steeling his will for what was to come. He could do this. Cas was with him. Anything was possible as long as they were together.

Dean followed his Dom’s direction and moved to the opposite side of the stage, where he was situated in front of a full length stand mirror. He immediately lowered his eyes, still not very confident in himself.

“None of that, now, princess. I want the whole room to know just how beautiful you are,” Cas said as he stepped behind Dean. They were at an angle to the stage so that the other members could see them and Dean, if he moved his head slightly to the right, he could look at the audience. Reluctantly, he thought looking at himself in the mirror was the lesser of two evils.

Cas began moving his hands over Dean’s body, starting with his lower back, moving upward, over his shoulders and down his chest. He pinched Dean’s nipples on the way down, eliciting a low moan from the sub. “I have two rules, kitten. The first, you must not come before you have permission. The second, you have to keep your eyes open and on the mirror until I say otherwise. Understood?”

“Y-yes, Sir, I understand,” Dean stammered, lifting his gaze to the ornate mirror.

Castiel slowly and reverently removed Dean’s pants, gently prompting each foot to lift and step out of them. As he stood back up, he trailed his fingers lightly up the outside of Dean’s legs and wrapped around his torso in a tight hug from behind.

“You are so beautiful, did you know that?” Cas asked, snaking one hand down to Dean’s cock, petting through the short hairs on his way. Dean shivered at the sensation. Cas started to slowly stroke Dean’s aching hard cock, all the while talking to him. Under normal circumstances he’d probably be whispering in his sub’s ears, but Dean had a feeling he wanted the room to hear the exchange. He could feel his skin heat, blushing at the notion of everyone hearing such intimate conversation. Cas continued to stroke his cock, using his pre-come to ease the way.

“You are so strong.”

“You are kind.”

“You are loyal to a fault.”

“You are a talented artist.”

“You are loved by many.”

“You are compassionate.”

“You are sensitive and feel things so completely, and I love that about you.”

“You are the love of my life.”

Dean’s breath came is hitches as he neared his orgasm. His telltale whine clued Cas in, causing him to slow down.

“Not yet, beautiful. I have so much more in store for you,” Cas murmured in Dean’s ear while stroking his hand up Dean’s torso. Dean practically purred at the contact despite the loss of Cas’ hand on his cock. He loved feeling his Dom’s hands all over him.

Gentle hands prodded Dean to the center of the stage, fully facing the audience, then left him altogether. He didn’t have time to miss them, however, as they returned quickly. Dean heard the rope before he felt it, losing himself in the quiet sounds and tugging sensations as Cas put him in a tortoise shell harness with his arms in a simple box tie across his back. He could feel the harness being secured to the suspension rope, to give him more balance while Cas first tied one calf to thigh then the other in a futomomo. By this point his was swaying on the rope, horizontal to the ground. He let his head hang and floated, not closing his eyes but not focusing on anything in particular, either.

[ ](http://imgur.com/JaEWlQs)

Warm fingers caressed his body, drawing indeterminant patterns on his back. He leaned into the touch as much as possible, given his current predicament, moaning his appreciation. A small gasp escaped when the fingers gently removed the plug, leaving him empty and wanting. Waiting. Waiting patiently for his Dom to take care of him, like he knew and trusted that Cas would. He was rewarded with slick fingers exploring his hole, testing how ready he was.

“Mmmmm, such a good boy, getting yourself ready for me like I asked,” Cas said as he replaced his fingers with a prostate massager. Dean recognized it as his favorite vibrating massager. It also happened to be remote controlled. As it was seated against his prostate, Dean moaned loudly when it suddenly started pulsating, making it feel as if electric currents were flowing through his body.

Dean was getting so lost in the new sensations that he missed his Dom swinging him around, until suddenly Cas’ cock was rubbing against his lips, leaving a trail of pre-come. This was something he knew, something he loved to do. He automatically opened his mouth wide and accepted the cock, eagerly licking and sucking, bobbing up and down, and sucking on Cas’ balls when they were shoved in his face instead. He moaned and leaned into Cas’ hand as it threaded gently through is hair. Dean’s cock steadily dripped pre-come as Cas gripped his head, holding it still while he fucked into Dean’s mouth aggressively. With his eyes streaming and throat fucked raw, Dean whined when Cas moved away. One of the Dom’s hands caressed lovingly along his cheek as he walked by, though, reassuring the sub that he was pleasing his Dom.

A moment later Dean’s perspective was changed as the ropes were pulled this way and that. Dean ended up mostly vertical again, with his arms and legs still bound. Oh, he liked this better. With the previous position, he could disconnect himself and just float and feel, he didn’t have to think or decide where to look. His desire was on hold and he was at the total mercy of his Dom. Not like he wasn’t all the time anyway, but still…

In this position, he was completely connected with his Dom. Looking directly at Cas, he was mesmerized by the bright blue staring into his soul. He took in the sight before him and sighed. Cas was coming closer, almost stalking him. The Dom was still wearing his cotton pants, but had lost the shirt somewhere along the way.

“Please,” Dean whispered as Cas’ fingers traced up his thighs.

“Please what, kitten? Is there something you want?” Cas asked playfully, tweaking a nipple and chuckling as Dean cried out in pleasure.

“You…need you, Sir. Please,” Dean begged, not really aware of his words.

“Oh, there are so many things I can give you, kitten. What exactly do you need from me?” Cas murmured in his ear as he leaned over Dean’s torso, wedging himself between Dean’s legs and grinding his clothed cock along Dean’s hole. That moved the prostate massager, causing Dean to gasp. When Dean didn’t answer, Cas used the remote to turn the massager up another notch.

“Please, Sir, need…cock…your cock…need to come. Please,” he groaned out, letting his head fall back in his frustration.

“Mmmm, kitten, you’ve been so good,” Cas replied, moving his hands along Dean’s body. “I think you deserve a reward. You want my cock, sweetheart?”

Dean could hear the slick sounds of lube and felt his cock twitch against his belly. “YES!” he cried out, stretching out against the ropes and using the slight sting of it to reign himself in, for what good it did. Dean was strung so tight he felt he would explode any minute. Cas removing the prostate massager very slowly while on the highest setting did not help.

“Well, far be it from me to deny you your reward, my love,” Cas said as he nudged at Dean’s hole with the head of his cock. He teased the head in and out a few times, ratcheting up the sheer want in Dean, who started babbling incoherently.

In one smooth push, Cas bottomed out and groaned along with Dean. Dean whined when Cas set a very slow, smooth pace.

“Please,” he gasped out breathlessly. “Oh, fuck, fuck, YES!” Dean cried out as Cas grabbed his hips, digging his fingers underneath the ropes and using them as handles to drive into Dean over and over, filling him over and over with his thick, hard cock.

“Dean,” Cas grunted out, “look at me. Look at me, kitten,” he repeated between pants. Dean sluggishly tugged his eyes up to meet his Dom’s as asked. “Good boy,” Cas cooed, “such a good boy. You may come anytime, princess, my love, my heart.”

At this last, combined with the look of absolute adoration in Cas’ eyes, Dean’s body tightened and strained against the ropes and he came in ribbons up his abdomen and chest. His hole clenched around Cas spasmodically, milking him as he continued to fuck Dean through his orgasm. Moments later, Dean felt a few quick hard thrusts and heard his name moaned out as Cas emptied into him.

Cas leaned down, resting his head on Dean’s chest while catching his breath. Eventually, Dean felt Cas’ tongue slowly cleaning him, licking up the come from his torso, all the while looking directly at Dean.

“Oh, fuck, that’s hot,” Dean whispered. When Cas finished, he rewarded Dean with a deep, passionate kiss, tasting himself on his lover’s lips.

He let his head fall back and enjoyed the euphoria while Cas started undoing the ropes. Once he was lowered to the ground, he felt Cas settle behind him, felt warm arms surround him lovingly. Cas began to whisper praises and encouragements in his ear as knot after knot was loosened and untied. This time, the ropes sliding slowly against his skin sung those praises. It was as if the ropes were talking to him, reaffirming the words floating by his ear.

Dean let himself go, let himself get lost in the fog of sub-space, trusting his Dom to take care of him. After awhile, he couldn’t say how long, he felt something cold press against his lips. Coming closer to awareness, he drank the water that Cas was encouraging him to swallow. Dean ate the chocolate bar, fed to him by hand in small pieces, slowly but steadily. As he slowly crept out of the fog, he found himself laying in the bed in Cas’ private room at the club, with the Dom wrapped around him and drawing lazy, soothing figures on his back.

“Hello, Dean, welcome back,” Cas said quietly, placing a chaste kiss to Dean’s temple. “How are you feeling?”

Dean hummed, taking stock, moving this way and that. He was sore, but in a good way. No injuries, though there were sure to be some awesome marks on his skin come morning. “Hmm, ‘m good, Cas,” he replied, clearing his throat. “Throat’s a bit rough, but otherwise I’m fucking awesome.” He turned his head and nuzzled into Cas’ neck, totally ready for his post-scene cuddling.

Cas chuckled and settled in with Dean, wrapping his arms around his sub. “How long do we have?” Dean asked, wanting to know roughly when he had to move again.

“As long as you’ll have me, my love, then we have forever,” Cas murmured into Dean’s hair sleepily.

“Cas?” Dean said quietly.

“Yes, Dean?” God, Dean loved it when Cas said his name.

“You’re a sap,” he replied before drifting off.

Dean has never looked forward to forever before this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Overall, this was a mixed bag of a process. It was fun and exciting and trying and hard and frustrating and maddening all at once.
> 
> Please give [@androbeaurepaire](http://androbeaurepaire.tumblr.com/) major love for their art. I enjoyed working with you so much!
> 
> I am forever grateful to formidablepassion and whataboutthefish for the encouragement and love. I heart you guys so much!

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this! Comments and kudos are life and feed my praise kink :)
> 
> You can find me [here](http://buffenator.tumblr.com/). I don't bite. Hard.


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